Conviction
by yaba
Summary: An unexpected tragedy reunites them, testing old relationships, creating new ones, and setting in motion events that threaten to break them apart all over again. Character Death. Post S4. Lucas/Brooke/Julian, Nathan/Haley.
1. Chapter 1: Hold Me Crying

Conviction

Disclaimer: Don't own anything…unfortunately. Lyrics are by Sarah McLachlan.

Rating: M

Spoiler: Season 4.

Pairings: Lucas/Brooke/Julian, Nathan/Haley

A/N: So I've never done something like this before and I really hope I don't alienate some of my readers, because this is a risky step. Also, I'm not very good with timelines, but this takes place about three years after graduation. All the same things have happened, except that Lucas and Lindsay dated for a while, but broke up. Nathan just got drafted to play for Charlotte Bobcats and never had his injury. This takes place about four months before what season 5 would have been.

Warning: Character death.

***

Chapter 1: Hold Me Crying

***

"It's the bitter taste of losing everything  
That I have held so dear…"

The cigarette ash makes a crackling sound as it falls on her bare knee, but she does not even flinch. Instead, she takes a deep inhale and methodically blows it out the window she has propped open with her elbow. The latch is broken so it swings back and forth, but she keeps her arm there, if only to let some breeze into the stuffy room.

The Los Angeles air is just as stifling at 5 in the morning as it is midday, especially since it is mid June and the ocean breeze is distanced enough to not allow much reprieve. She wipes the ash away and watches her skin flush from where it has been burned, but it doesn't evoke any feeling inside of her.

She knows it is beyond cliché, but she has never felt so numb before. She has become immune to temperature, to reactions, to normal bodily functions.

The only visible signs of life in her are her robotic movements as she brings the cigarette between her lips and sucks in her breath, as if drinking in life.

She focuses so deeply on blowing smoke out the window that she barely registers the light touch on her naked shoulder and before she knows it, he is sitting across from her on the alcove, all broad shouldered and bare-chested, and the only thing she can think of is how her now oldest girlfriend is one lucky woman.

This contemplation is fleeting, though, and is quickly replaced by guilt, sinking deep within her bones, freezing her from the inside, because as much as she is immune to everything, guilt still seeps through and she knows she can feel as carefree as she had before.

Everything is changed, the world has tilted on its axis, and nothing will ever be the same again.

"Can't sleep?" He murmurs softly, if for no other reason then to get her talking, but she shrugs, shaking her head as the cigarette hisses between her fingers.

"You shouldn't be here." She says instead, "Second hand smoke is bad for athletes."

"Then stop smoking." He counters and she can see his hand twitch at his side, itching to rip the cancer stick from her lips and throw it out.

So she takes another long, luxurious drag, because she has never been one to comply with anything.

He has the urge to roll his eyes but doesn't, because even in her act of defiance, he sees fractures.

He sees the sadness, the loneliness, the grief, but what makes him suck in a breath is the omnipotent guilt that's no doubt mirrored in himself.

"How's Luke?" She asks softly, so quietly in fact that he almost doesn't hear her, but he does and his brother's large limp body curled awkwardly into his wife's as she rocks him on the bed flashes across Nathan's mind and he takes another breath.

"Better." He mumbles.

The lie seems to require less effort, so the mumbled words fly out before his brain can even register them.

She obviously does not believe him, but she's equally tired, and knows how much of this rests on his shoulders, so instead of bothering with intricacies, she accepts his answer.

They don't say anything for a while and she notices him get agitated.

She realizes Nathan is hurting, hurting like each of them, hurting for all of them, so tempted to take over the protective role while his brother cannot do so. She also knows that Nathan hurts as much as she does, because there was a time before when it was just the three of them.

Before cheerleading, basketball, and most importantly love got in the way, they used to mean the world to each other, the three of them, and now despite how far they've drifted, now that one of their own is gone, their circle seems fractured, and when she looks into Nathan's eyes she knows that he knows it too.

They both know it's just the two of them now, and for some reason that realization hurts the most, because neither has thought about it until now.

Her cigarette has finished and she flicks the remainder out the window, closing the broken latch as best she can, trying to focus on anything but his defeated stare and the slumped shoulders that signify how broken he is, how broken they all are by the reality they've been forced to encounter.

She wraps the throw over both of them, and Nathan smiles at her gratefully, even though the edges of the blanket barely skim his thighs.

She leans back against the wall, wrapping her arms around herself, trying to stave off the chill that rises on her skin with each violating thought of the past. In hopes of shutting out those memories, she closes her eyes, which makes it even worse, because she is assaulted with images of her best friend at seventeen, her curls billowing in the soft summer breeze, as she sketches fervently in her art book, so focused and determined that she doesn't realize how beautiful she is, how full of hope and life her art is, how it transfixes those around her.

Her eyes sting as they overflow with tears and before she knows, she's shaking violently, pent up sobs wrecking her body as she's pulled into the past, hurled so treacherously into memories that she is sure will haunt her into many more nights like this.

When she opens her eyes, she gasps, because she finds herself no longer leaning against the cold wall, but safely enclosed in Nathan's arms. His warmth should make her feel better, as should his strong embrace, but she doesn't, she does not feel safe, or protected from the hurt and guilt that just wont go away.

He murmurs comfort into her ear but her heart beats so frantically in her chest, she can't hear him, only the vinyl records she detested so much in high school, and all she sees are the red painted walls she was always so amused by and most importantly she can almost feel the joy of laughter exchanged between two best friends, and when she realizes she'll never get to experience any of that again, she cries harder.

She digs her nails into Nathan's forearm and sobs against his chest, trying hard not to break down, but being unable to stop it.

It is only when her sobs give way to exhaustion and her eyes grow heavy that she manages to hear Nathan through the myriad of emotions fleeting through her.

"I'm sorry I can't make it better," he whispers in her ear and for a split second her heart swells, because for once someone is honest, for once no one is lying to her, telling her it will be okay and everything will tilt right back to normal.

Nathan cradles her limp body in his arms, and turns his head to the window just in time to see the sun peak over the horizon. His heart clenches at the sight, because he can never understand how in a world of such beauty, that has given him his amazing wife and a gorgeous son, he can ever stand in front of all his family and friends two days from now in his hometown and watch his best friend be buried.

And he is even more afraid, because the people in his life who he has seen fight everything have fallen and broken down. Because if his brother and the broken girl in his arms cannot stand tall in the face of such tragedy, Nathan is not sure how he will fair either.

***

A few hours after lying Brooke down on the pull out in the living room, Nathan sits at the kitchen table, stroking his wife's chilled hand as they sip tepid coffee from misshapen mugs in silence.

They both look tired, exhausted, as any parents of a three year old should be, but Jamie is back in Tree Hill with Deb, and Nathan suddenly yearns to hold his blond boy in his arms, to see his toothy smile and tickle him senseless.

Nathan wishes he was exhausted for an entirely different reason.

He looks up at Haley, and her eyes instinctively trail up to meet his, but before he can say anything to her, they both look up to see Lucas enter the small kitchen.

"Hi Luke," Haley greets him, only a hint of a smile on her face and Nathan squeezes her hand, because he understands exactly what she's going through.

Not only is she dealing with her own grief, trying to wrap her mind around the situation, but she is also holding on to Lucas for dear life, hoping he won't break.

Even though, they both know it's already too late for that.

"Hey." Lucas mumbles in reply and sits down at the round table across from the couple.

His blue eyes are cold, determined, his jaw is tense and he looks oddly normal, which makes Nathan think he is even worse than they anticipate.

His brother's tough exterior has always been transparent, but impenetrable. Not even for people he loved.

For a split second, Nathan wishes for the broken down Lucas again, the one who let Haley hold him all through the night, as he sobbed into her shirt, because that Lucas was relatable, that Lucas let people in, this Lucas, with his steely resolve, will block anything in his path, will be stubborn, and shut everybody out.

"How's Brooke?" He asks and Nathan suddenly remembers the brunette girl who fell asleep not two hours ago after having cried herself into exhaustion.

"Asleep, would you like some breakfast? I can make your favorite?" Haley suggests, but Lucas shakes his head, "I'm not hungry. When's your flight?"

"Seven tonight," Haley answers, not skipping a beat, but Nathan catches the flaw in his question,

"What do you mean, her flight? It's your flight too, Luke."

"No, it's not." The blond Scott replies and Nathan can already feel his wife tense besides him. They discussed the possibility of Lucas wanting to stay in LA for an extra day before the funeral and both vetoed the idea, but looking at Lucas now, Nathan knows it would be futile to argue.

And suddenly he is angry.

Suddenly, he's overcome with his own grief and his own emotions and inadvertent hatred for his brother, who seems to forget everyone else when he is hurting, everyone besides the curly blonde.

He forgets that Haley will be worried sick if he stays behind, that Jamie will not stop questioning about his uncle's whereabouts, that Karen will be left responsible for all the arrangements until Larry gets back from sea.

And Nathan has the biggest urge to throw something in his brother's face, if only to wipe the look of determination from it.

But he doesn't. Instead he stands up, kisses his wife, and drops his half full mug into the sink,

"That's fine Luke. Do what you want, I'm going for a run, Hales, I'll be back in a little bit okay?"

Haley nods but frowns as she sees the look pass between two brothers.

The silence grows in the kitchen as two best friends sit opposite each other with nothing left to say.

"I'd really wish you could reconsider." Haley eventually speaks out.

"I can't. I have to be the one to pack up all this stuff, to cancel the lease, to tie up all the loose ends."

"Why? Nathan will be here to help Brooke. Why do you need to?" She asks, even though she knows the answer, "So you can torture yourself some more about this?"

Haley doesn't need to look at him to know his jaw tenses, his squint deepens, and his fists flex. She's treading into uncharted territory, picking at scabs that threaten to release the wound, possibly forever.

The burn of tears is inevitable and she swallows to keep from breaking down.

She needs to be strong.

If not for herself, then for Lucas, and Brooke, and Nathan, and especially her son, who won't know what happened.

"If it were Nathan-…"

"Don't." Haley exclaims suddenly, the thought too much to bear as she stands up so quickly from her seat, the chair screeches against the linoleum, "Don't you dare say it!"

She hisses as she makes her way to the sink, dropping her coffee alongside her husband's.

Selfish thoughts enter her mind, thanking god that it wasn't Nathan, that he is still safe besides her, that her family still has some semblance of normality; and, suddenly she can't hold her tears back and they escape her eyes, pouring down her cheeks, blurring her vision as she holds onto the counter, trying to hold back, not break down in front of Lucas.

But as soon as the first tear escapes, Lucas is by her side, pulling her into his arms, holding her in a tight hug and whispering apologies, "I'm sorry Hales, I'm so sorry I even insinuated it, but I need to stay, I need to make sure everything is okay here before I, before we bury her."

Haley hears his words crack as he chokes out the last phrase, and she feels his throat constrict against her head. She wraps her arms tighter around him like she did the night before, "We will get through this Lucas. Just promise me you won't shut me out."

She waits for his reply patiently, tears leaking out of her eyes with every passing second of silence. Both know he can't promise her that, because that's going against his very character, against who he is, and as she stands in this strange kitchen, in this strange apartment, in a strange town, she's never felt more disconnected from her oldest and dearest friend.

And she realizes that she's shivering, not because the room is cold, but because Lucas is, and his hug, however strong and protective, is not warm.

Haley realizes he's already shut her out.

***

As soon as she opens her eyes, she feels the soreness in her eyelids and wants to fall back asleep indefinitely.

But the bright sun angled at her face reminds her that it is probably too late already to sleep a little more, and looking around at the half filled boxes on the living room reminds her of what needs to be done.

What _she_ has to do.

Her breathing escalates with each passing second as the realization that has been haunting her since the phone call she received in New York two days before makes itself known again.

She tries to snuggle into the blanket, but the makeshift bed now feels cold and the deafening silence in the apartment does nothing to calm her nerves. She sits up quickly, rubbing her temples to stave off the headache she knows is coming.

She is about to get up when she feels a hand on her shoulder, "Good morning, pretty girl."

She turns at the soft voice, meeting blue eyes that don't seem to carry the sadness and grief she is consumed by, and instead of wondering why she squeezes the hand on her shoulder and smiles in spite of herself,

"Is it really morning?" She murmurs and he shrugs, "More like early afternoon, but don't worry about it, I think you needed the rest."

His words skirt around why they're here and all of the sudden Brooke can't bear the normality of it all. She drops his hand and moves away, mumbling something about taking a shower and getting to the boxes.

Lucas frowns, but doesn't say anything, just sits down on the bed and says,

"I'm staying with you."

Brooke stops, her hand midway into her suitcase, when she turns around and stares at him, uncertain of what to say.

"You need to go back to Tree Hill, Luke. You need to help Haley make arrangements and bring her safely back home, I'll be fine with Nathan."

Lucas sits up and rests his elbows on his knees, his frame now rigid and cold. He's trying to be strong, impenetrable, but Brooke can see right through him, all the way to the heart that she knows is breaking with every passing moment he is confronted by this reality, this world without his soul mate, or so she thinks.

"Nathan and Haley can handle it together. Larry is on his way back and my mom is there if they need anything." He stands up and stretches, still keeping his façade, but Brooke sees the cracks in it, in the way his hands slightly tremble and the way he refuses to look at their surroundings for fear that they might remind him of the past.

Before she can protest, he comes closer to her, meeting her strong gaze,

"I'm not leaving you alone to deal with this. I'm not leaving you in this godforsaken city like I left _her_."

His admission is so intense; Brooke actually has to step back.

This is the closest either of them has come to talking about her, about the missing piece from their love triangle, about the girl that brought them together, and tore them apart.

Suddenly, her heart is beating wildly and her mouth is dry. She tries to speak but nothing comes out, because there is nothing that could make this any easier on him, nothing that will erase what he said or make him think otherwise, so she turns around, picks up the change of clothing and walks past him into the bathroom.

In the doorway, she hesitates.

She knows he stands motionlessly in the same spot, waiting for an answer, and as much as she doesn't want to give him one, Brooke has never been able to resist the pull he has on her heart,

"Just so you know, she never thought you left her."

And although they both know she has just sugarcoated the truth, an agreement passes between the two ex-lovers.

No more alluding to the past, at least not until they've packed up her apartment, because if either one of them slips again, the ramifications threaten to undo them both.

***

By the time Brooke steps out of the shower, she feels slightly better but more alone than usual.

She realizes that she has no clue where Nathan and Haley have gone and that the small apartment is too quiet for Lucas to still be here.

She drops her things on the pull out and opens her phone for the first time in two days. There are messages from Victoria, Millicent, and other colleagues, but she pays no attention to them, suddenly the phone vibrates in her hand and she looks down to see a text message from Lucas.

"_Gone to get more boxes, Nathan and Hales left to make arrangements for transportation." _

His word choice is so mechanical, she sighs, flinging the Blackberry to the middle of the couch and sinking alongside it. She hasn't been alone in the apartment and it terrifies her.

She's surrounded by her best friend's things, by her essence, by the very definition of her personality and charm, and as her eyes glide over the book case and spot about four different copies of an Unkindness, she realizes she can't let Lucas see any of this, any of the things that will remind him of what they're losing in this, of all the guilt to be felt for never calling or keeping in touch.

For him, Brooke believes the guilt runs deeper, so she quickly stands up, grabs the nearest box and starts flinging random things into it.

It isn't until the box is so heavy she has to drop it on the floor and sees the haphazard compilation of items in it that she feels just as disoriented.

She feels like she won't make it out of this alive, like the thought of going through her best friend's things, her clothes, her records, her books will be the final straw, that after this experience she will officially forget how to feel anything but this deep, empty hole inside her, with guilt filling in the edges.

Just then, the doorbell rings and Brooke wonders if she really has gone off the deep end.

It occurs to her that it may very well be any of her friends, but for some reason it doesn't feel like it, so reluctantly, she approaches the door, and props it open to reveal a man she had only seen in pictures.

At first, she's taken aback by how extremely good looking he is, the dark brown eyes, the chestnut hair, the five o'clock shadow all paired with laid back attire would, on any other occasion, make Brooke put on her sexiest smile, twirl her hair, and time stamp him with a countdown until they end up in bed together, but that thought barely crosses her mind as she meets his brown gaze and realizes that her presence explains everything he's been wondering about.

"So it's true?" He murmurs, more to himself than her, as he sinks against the opposite hallway wall, his shoulders slump as he catches his breath and Brooke swallows hard. She had no idea it would be this hard to confirm it to someone, but she has to, especially because she knows this man's history in her friend's life.

After the disastrous proposal, Brooke made an honest effort to stay in touch with her best friend and for a long time they did, so she knew enough about the man in front of her to know how much he meant to the curly blonde, even if she hadn't spoken to her since they'd parted ways.

"Yeah," She nods as she leans against the doorway. Her vision doesn't blur from expected tears, nor does she feel her heart escalate.

She figures it must be the numbness that won't leave her; it hides behind the guise of normality.

"God…" He manages to choke out, hand running over his face, and Brooke sympathizes with him, because she can't imagine what she looked like when she found out, "Bad day to call an ex-girlfriend at work to say hi." He adds almost as an afterthought.

"Is that how you found out?"

"Yeah" He nods his head, still running his hand through his short, brown hair. He looks lost and Brooke frowns, finding this exchange almost inappropriate as it occurs in a public hallway where anyone can walk past them.

"You should come in." She suggests, because it seems like the rational thing to do, but even as she says the words, she feels guilty and awkward, because she can't imagine what this place represents to the man in front of her.

She knows enough about his involvement with Peyton to comprehend the look of complete devastation in his eyes, it reminds her of the gaze she encountered that morning when a certain blond boy bid her good morning.

"No, I can't, I'm going to go. I'm sorry for your loss Brooke." He is already halfway down the hall before she calls out to him,

"Wait Julian…"

He stops but doesn't turn around, and she swears that even in the distance she can see the slight tremor in his shoulders, but in a moment he turns around and his face is expressionless, not a hint of a breakdown in sight.

"The funeral's on Wednesday in Tree Hill. You're welcome to come."

"Thank you." He gives her a faint smile, but only because it is the polite thing to do, and then he's gone around the corner and Brooke is left standing in the doorway, staring down an empty hallway.

She tries to make sense of what just happened. Of this impromptu visit and the questions it left behind, questions her best friend would never answer, and her heart feels heavy again as she thinks about the many nights of gossiping over ice cream that will never happen again.

She will never know what truly happened between them and it kills her that she wasn't there for this important transition in her friend's life.

Her mind is so far away that she doesn't notice the couple walking towards her down the hallway until Haley walks close up to her, "Brooke, are you okay?"

The petite brunette stares at her with concern and Brooke blinks, burying her thoughts along with past memories, "Yeah."

"Were you expecting someone?" Nathan asks as he gives her shoulder a gentle squeeze and walks into the apartment.

Haley keeps looking at her and Brooke isn't sure what to say, should she tell the truth or should she pretend like nothing ever happened?

The brisk footsteps behind Haley cement her decision to lie.

"Hey guys." Lucas murmurs nonchalantly and slips past all three of them into the living room with a case full of folded cardboard boxes.

Lucas doesn't need to know who Julian is, more importantly, who he was to their best friend.

"No," Brooke shakes her head, "I just thought someone was at the door."

***


	2. Chapter 2: Pull On My Heart

Conviction

Disclaimer: Don't own anything…unfortunately. Lyrics by Goo Goo Dolls.

Rating: M

Spoiler: Season 4.

Pairings: Lucas/Brooke/Julian, Nathan/Haley

A/N: thank you for all the wonderful reviews! I'm very pleased that no one's entirely too put off by the concept. I wanted to address something common in reviews. Everything that happened on the show regarding Leyton, Lincas, and Brucas, as well as Pulian is 100% true in this story. I did not change anything. The only thing that has changed is that Season 5 never happened, but everything that was referenced still occured. For example, Lucas and Peyton did not get back together after the botched proposal, the Brucas night in NY happened, Pulian happened and ended the same way it did on the show and the only exception is that Lincas broke up and were never as serious as they were on the show. With that prelude, enjoy Chapter 2!

***

Chapter 2: Pull On My Heart

***

"…_And we wake up in the breakdown  
in the things we never thought we could be…"_

The city named after angels is now nothing but a checkered patch of land illuminated by lights and surrounded by a dark ocean.

Haley shuts the plane window in frustration, silently wondering if she made the right decision by leaving her two best friends behind to deal with the mess.

She doesn't even think about what awaits her in Tree Hill. All she can remember now is the two restless nights Lucas spent tossing and turning in a dreamless sleep while she watched him wage a war against his guilt.

She knows she shouldn't be so protective and unfocused on her own feelings, but she can't help it.

She knows as soon as she's back at home, holding her baby in her arms, the tears she sheds over one of her oldest and dearest friends will be long and bitter, but bearable.

While she lost a friend, Lucas lost an important love in his life and she can't imagine what he must be going through.

Thankfully, she thinks, Brooke is there with him, because although the two haven't spoken in almost two years, Haley can think of no other person better fit to handle Lucas at this time and vice versa.

"What are you thinking about?" Nathan asks, sliding his hand over hers. His skin warms her and she can't stop the tightening in her stomach when she thinks about what Lucas said to her this morning.

If it would have been Nathan…

She just doesn't know how she'd handle it.

"I'm not sure we made the right decision leaving Lucas in LA. He should be coming home with me; he needs the support of his entire family right now."

Nathan looks at her with nothing but devotion and admiration. He understands her but he also thinks she's fighting so hard for Lucas' well being right now, because she's avoiding her own grief.

So he squeezes her hand and says,

"He's a grown man, Hales. He might be blind with guilt, anger, and grief right now but he is strong. Lucas will get through this."

Nathan turns towards her and runs his hand across her shoulder in an intimate way that echoes comfort and love and Haley can't help the tears that blur her vision.

"I'm worried about Brooke, too." She says quietly, looking down to conceal her wet cheeks from Nathan; but he is her husband and he knows.

He has always known.

Nathan swallows hard when he's reminded of the brunette, because he is worried about her too, probably more so than he's worried about Lucas.

It seems incredulous to a stranger, but Nathan knows that Lucas' support system is vast and powerful. He can only imagine when Lucas returns to Tree Hill, how Karen, Haley, Lindsay, and even his own mother are all going to be there to help him through this, and Lucas will fight against that, he'll push and shove them away but ultimately he'll know they're there.

Brooke, on the other hand, will return to New York to what? A bitch of a mother, a drug addicted best friend, and a multimillion dollar corporation that seems as cold as her barely lived in apartment, and he only knows all this information, because he's made friends with Brooke's assistant Millicent, seeing as the brunette barely ever comes home anymore.

He's more worried about the ex-cheerleader, because over the years she's distanced herself from the only family she's ever known, and now that a piece of that family is gone, he can't even fathom the consequences.

"I don't think she should go back to New York after this." Nathan blurts out suddenly and Haley looks up at him in question.

She may be his wife for the last four years, but there are some things that surprise her about him till this day.

Like his protectiveness over the brunette he hasn't seen in about a year.

Haley smiles at his determined expression and reaches out to touch his cheek, "Nathan, honey, I don't think that's our decision to make."

Nathan nods turning and kissing the inside of her palm.

"I know, I'm just-"

"Worried?" Haley asks, eyes sparkling from unshed tears as she sympathizes, "Me too. I just want to hold Jamie in my arms and pretend like this never happened."

And as much as Nathan wants to pull his wife into his arms and tell her that they can do just that, he can't, because no matter the amount of shit they've gone through together, he's never been able to lie to her.

They both know things will never be the same, because Peyton Sawyer is gone, taken unexpectedly, shockingly, and painfully.

Their circle of friends is now broken permanently, no longer just scattered, but actually fractured. So Nathan pulls Haley into his arms, holding her tightly, and breathing in her scent, because it's in her embrace that he's always found comfort, even if now it does not seem to be the case.

***

They sit in silence, because Brooke doesn't know what to say to him.

As soon as Nathan and Haley leave, she realizes that it has been almost two years to the day since she's last seen or spoken to Lucas and she fears that if it were not for the tragedy that brought them together today, she probably wouldn't see him for a while longer.

It mystifies her, as she sits with Peyton's sketchbook on the living room floor, that the boy she used to look forward to seeing every day for the better part of high school is now a perfect stranger, connected to her only by her memories and her best friend.

Shockingly, she's okay with it. She always thought she wouldn't manage without him, but she has. Yet instead of it empowering her, it makes her sad, because she understands how detached from everyone she's become. Her life in New York may be reduced to work and sleep the last two years, but at least she knows what to expect. She's learned not to rely on people and it's been okay thus far, but now, now everything has changed.

At that particular moment, Lucas enters the room and briskly walks towards her.

She looks up at him, sweeping bangs from her eyes and thanks him for the wine he places on the coffee table besides her.

"Don't mention it." He murmurs from the couch, and Brooke takes a lengthy sip, relishing the momentary reprieve from her activities.

"What are you looking at?" Lucas asks quietly, the beer bottle poised at his lips as he takes a pull from the bottle.

Brooke quickly looks down and reacts, "Nothing, just some old sketchbook." She explains and moves to her duffle bag, tossing it in there casually, because this isn't just a random sketchbook, it is _the _sketchbook, filled with classic drawings that would surely break him into a million pieces if he saw it.

As she returns to her spot, she thinks she's been saving him a lot lately, protecting him from what he will have to eventually face.

He'll find out soon enough and will be furious that she concealed these items, but Brooke doesn't care.

She acts purely on instinct and in the back of her head; she silently curses Lucas Scott for still evoking a feeling of concern for him, even after so long apart.

Lucas seems to feel the tension radiating off her, because he tries to make small talk.

"Are you going back to New York after this?"

"Haven't thought that far in advance…" Brooke admits, finding the box of records by her side extremely interesting, "Might be a good time to come home for a while." She adds almost as an afterthought, because in all honesty she's been contemplating that very question long before she received the phone call that brought her here.

But she also knows Victoria would never let her go, and sometimes she isn't strong enough to fight against her.

Then there was Rachel to think about. The redhead is staying with her at the moment, because she spent her last month's rent on recreational goodies and got evicted by her roommate.

Brooke isn't quite sure how to explain what happened to the bubbly and confident former cheerleader since high school, but she knows that when she comes back things are going to change.

She isn't losing anymore friends.

She wouldn't be able to handle it… not that she's doing so well now.

Brooke is so deep into her thoughts, she almost misses Lucas when he says, "Yeah, I think you should."

"Really?" She tilts her head in his direction, "Why is that?"

By the look on his face, she knows Lucas has no idea how to respond, he stammers; takes a sip of his beer and shrugs,

"Because, you need to spend some time with the people who love and care about you"

He says it as if it's the most logical thing and she grits her teeth from the anger that suddenly emerges,

"Yeah and I suppose this is the kind of event that brings those people together, right?"

Lucas looks at her as she snaps, but his expression is unreadable.

"I'm sorry we didn't keep in touch, Brooke, but now that you're here, you should come home." He says it quietly, unsurely, afraid she might snap again, not that it wouldn't be justifiable.

It isn't his place to tell Brooke what to do, not even to suggest it, because she's right in a sense. People who love and care for each other don't wait until this sort of tragedy to bring them back together.

This makes him think of his other ex-girlfriend and suddenly he feels like if he continues this conversation, he won't be able to breathe.

It's then that he starts noticing all the little things around that remind him of Peyton, like the red curtains and the vintage vinyl record player in the corner of the room and he can't handle it. He can't handle being in a place that reminds him of everything he could have had, but lost, because of his own pride and selfishness.

Brooke notices him start to tremble as his eyes nervously dart around the room, no doubt observing his surroundings with a newfound understanding of where he is, what he is doing here, and she swallows back tears as she realizes that it only dawns on him now that he is in Peyton's apartment, packing up her belongings, because she's gone.

And despite the anger she feels towards him, she sits besides him on the couch and pulls him into a tight hug, knowing she can't let him go through this alone.

"You're right." She whispers against his shoulder, "I should come home, but I can't."

Lucas suddenly detaches himself from her, staring her down with his steely blue gaze, "It's not my place to tell you how to live Brooke, it's your choice what you want to do."

"I know that." She says briskly and looks down, wondering if she should tell him why she feels like going back to Tree Hill is a bad idea. She never used to wonder about opening up to Lucas, because it came naturally, but now she just doesn't know.

"I know it's my choice, Lucas, but you know, I've spent the last two days fighting so hard not let the memories get to me, not let this guilty feeling for not being there for her swallow me whole and I can't imagine being able to escape that in Tree Hill, where everything reminds me of her. I can't, I just, I can't."

She's standing up now, twisting the rings on her fingers nervously, trying not to break down, but it's too late. Tears are streaming down her cheeks, she's shaking, and she can't lay a gaze on anything that doesn't remotely remind her of the best friend she's neglected until it was too late.

"So you're just going to run Brooke? Run away back to your glamorous life in Manhattan, forget Peyton ever existed?"

He knows he crossed the line when a flash of fire passes through her hazel eyes and her hands subtly curl into fists as her jaw clenches. He thinks she might slap or him, or run away, but instead all she does is speak,

"You know nothing about my glamorous life." She says through clenched teeth, but the sarcastic tone in her voice is evident.

He's about to apologize, really, he is, but when he takes a step towards her, she flinches and backs away, "You fucking jerk." She whispers, shaking her head in disbelief, "You goddamn jerk."

It's almost a chant now as she repeats it over and over again, stepping further into the shadows of the dimly lit apartment as he tries to approach her. He attempts to say something but his tongue feels like lead and his throat is dry and all these physical impediments paired with the sudden realization that he took his guilt out on Brooke, just like he did after Keith died, make him mute, unable to form a coherent thought let alone a sentence.

"Brooke I didn't mea-…"

"You think my life is fucking glamorous?" She snaps, hot tears streaming down her face as she tries to understand what possessed him to say so.

It's a sore subject really, because everyone who initially meets her thinks her life is indeed fabulous, but those people don't know her, those people don't know her mother, or the constant pressure she is under. All they see is the make up, the money, the arm candy, and the clothes, they don't see Brooke Davis, and she can't believe Lucas is one of those people.

Granted he hasn't spoken to her in two years, but still…it's _Lucas_.

"No, no, I don't, I'm sorry-…"

He tries to reach out to her, but the closer he comes, the further she slips away and he almost can't breathe, because he might not be able to get over this without her help, her comfort, and her smile.

He can't imagine a world without Brooke Davis in it, especially when he's lost so much already.

"Then why did you say it, Lucas?" Her breath is even now and her voice is calm, but he knows the damage is done.

He put his foot in his mouth at the worst of times.

"I don't know." He admits, shaking his head, and Brooke lets out an unceremonious snort.

"You know, I don't even care why you said it. I just can't believe you did. Peyton is gone, Lucas, she isn't coming back!" The brunette exclaims and Lucas can't help but wince at her words, not only because it's the first time she says something so direct about it but also because as she does, her small hands are shaking in their fists, and she's stubbornly fighting tears,

"And instead of being there for each other, for me, you decide to be spiteful."

It's not until she actually says it that anger bubbles to the surface and she physically pushes Lucas away from her, before frantically grabbing her coat off the rack.

"Where are you going?" Lucas asks, panicked at her sudden movement, but Brooke doesn't answer him, just zips up her jacket and grabs her purse,

"I'm going for a walk and don't try to follow me, you don't want to get harassed by all the fucking paparazzi that follow me everywhere, do you?" she quips back at him, before flinging open the door and walking through it.

He stands rooted in his place for a few minutes, trying to make sense of what has just occurred. He looks at the glass of wine and the box of records besides the coffee table and envisions Peyton sitting in the very same spot, picking out a record to listen to while sipping on some wine and his heart constricts yet again.

"I'm such a fucking screw up." He murmurs to no one in particular, but somehow he thinks the blonde is listening, because the front door swings open wider, beckoning him to follow, and although he doesn't believe in ghosts, he knows it's a sign.

Too bad Lucas Scott is as stubborn as he is misguided at times, and instead of following Brooke out the door, he reaches out and slams it shut, because Peyton lost the right to guide him to anything when she killed herself.

***

She hasn't been in LA for a while now, she's done fashion week here twice but she never got to actually see the city, walk the streets, and take in the atmosphere.

When Peyton and she lived here, they rented on the other side of town, so this area, although reminiscent of the East Village in Manhattan, is absolutely foreign to her.

So she walks down deserted streets, passes by several quaint coffee shops and even quainter boutiques closing up for the night. She even passes a few record stores that have Peyton written all over them and she wonders if her best friend ever just ventured into one of these stores and spent hours leafing through music like she used to.

The thought makes her oddly nostalgic, but not in a way that grips her heart and makes her gasp for air.

The thought of her P. Sawyer rummaging through stacks of vinyl makes her smile, so that's how she finds herself standing in front of a small record store that looks almost like an exact replica of Max's store in Tree Hill.

She reaches the door handle, but hesitates, because she feels like she is about to enter Peyton's world, her sanctuary, which Brooke never felt comfortable infringing on. Yet her hands work on their own accord and she flings open the front door, stepping into the warm atmosphere of the record store.

The clerk gives her a shifty glare, probably because the space is deserted and it's almost closing time, but Brooke ignores him and slips past the stacks of CDs to the back, where she sees the small vinyl collection the store has to offer.

She runs her fingers over several classic recordings, most of them unfamiliar to her, but some, like Led Zeppelin and The Cure, resonate deep within her soul.

She recalls many nights spent on Peyton's bed, just the two of them in that empty house, listening to the music Brooke detested back then.

What she wouldn't give to have another night like that.

She doesn't even realize she's crying until her vision becomes so blurred she can no longer make out the writing on one of the records.

She has a sudden impulse to buy the entire record collection, but she knows it won't bring her best friend back, so she drops the Elvis Costello she holds in her hands and turns around to leave.

However, she's not looking where she's going and collides with another body.

"Brooke?" His voice is calm, gentle, almost surreal, "Are you okay?"

She looks up then, and her breath hitches ever so slightly as she encounters the brown gaze that's haunted her since that morning.

"Yeah, I'm fine." She nods, but it's clearly not the case and she can't meet his eyes, because even though he barely knows her, he won't believe her.

"I don't think you are." He says softly, his hand landing on her shoulder as he tries to catch her eyes.

She wants to shrug his hand away but she is tired, exhausted from lack of sleep and forgetting to eat, and she knows coming in here was a bad idea.

"I'll be okay. You don't need to worry about me." She shakes her head and walks past him towards the exit.

When she makes it outside, the cool air hits her face and she takes a deep breath. She again notices how stifling even cold breeze can be in Los Angeles and momentarily craves the fresh summer air of New York City.

She takes a moment to calm down, thinking Julian won't follow her, but she's indeed surprised when she feels a hand on her shoulder, spinning her around,

"Do you even know how to get back to the apartment?" He asks, still holding her shoulder, still being attentive.

And it suddenly occurs to her that here's this stranger, whom she's never met before, but only seen through pictures, and he followed her outside, even though he absolutely did not have to.

Yet Lucas didn't.

And even though she knows exactly how to get back to the apartment, she shakes her head, flattened curls drifting about her face, and Julian nods,

"Okay, let me walk you home then."

"Actually, do you mind going somewhere else?" she asks quietly and doesn't miss his bewildered look.

There's a pregnant pause as he no doubt evaluates how deeply he wants to be involved, his internal battle is playing out before her very eyes.

He probably doesn't want anything to do with anyone related to Tree Hill, to Lucas' novel, to anything connected to Peyton.

She's pretty certain that despite what Peyton told her after they split, Julian had his heart broken.

She knows, because she's seen that look before, in the mirror.

Julian runs his hands through his short hair and nods,

"Yeah, I know a place we can go not too far from here," he murmurs.

Brooke is a little bit surprised, but then not very much so when she sees his kind eyes dart in her direction.

She knows he doesn't want to be here and probably regrets bumping into her, but she's grateful that he doesn't say no to her, because the last thing she wants to do is go back to that apartment and continue to pack up boxes.

Most of all, she just isn't ready to face Lucas again.

"Lead the way." She smiles softly and Julian motions her down the street.

***

With the flight delay and the time change, they stumble into their newly purchased house at close to two in the morning.

Tired but determined, Haley drops her bags by the front door, a habit uncanny for her since she likes everything to be in its right place, and walks up the stairs, already picturing her son's angelic face as he sleeps.

Nathan follows her silently into Jamie's room and although he missed his son like hell, he watches from the doorway as Haley sits down by the edge of his bed and runs her hand gently over his forehead.

Jamie's a deep sleeper, always has been and the gesture doesn't wake him up. Instead, he snuggles deeper into his pillow and clutches his stuffed rabbit, courtesy of his godmother, tighter.

Haley can't resist so she leans down and brushes a kiss to his forehead, before standing up and walking back out the door.

"You should say good night to him too." She whispers as they stand in the doorway, but Nathan merely glances over at their sleeping boy and shrugs,

"You gave him a pretty sweet one from the both of us." He smiles softly at her and Haley instinctively reaches out and touches his cheek.

He leans into her touch unconsciously, reveling in her softness and then he's pulling her into his embrace, wrapping his arms around her, holding her as close as possible.

The last two days have been horrible and all he wants to do is selfishly block everything out and just hold his wife, at least until their rambunctious child runs into their bedroom in a few hours, demanding gifts.

Haley seems to be the thinking the same thing, because she takes his hand and leads him down the hall to their bedroom.

When they step in, Nathan shuts the door and turns around, expecting his wife to be rummaging around the room, getting ready for bed, but instead he finds that Haley's pulled off her top and is in the process of unbuttoning her jeans.

She steps out of the pants and Nathan takes in a breath.

He knows this isn't the time to be thinking about this, but she still takes his breath away.

"Come lie down with me." She whispers when she's slipped underneath the covers, not bothering to put on pajamas.

Nathan obliges, stripping off his shirt, jeans, and socks before crawling onto his side of the bed.

"You must be exhausted baby." He says as he pulls her flush against her. When her warm skin touches his, he shudders involuntarily.

Her hand glides up his chest and she buries her nose into his shoulder, before saying,

"I'm not that tired."

Nathan looks down at her then through the darkness. He runs his hand up and down her back, stopping at her bra clasp, but he hesitates.

"Hales," He whispers through the quiet as she flings her leg over his waist.

"Just touch me." She says softly, knowing that Nathan does not stand a change against her gentle tone and huge, pleading, brown eyes.

He audibly groans as she pulls herself completely on top of him, creating friction and heat and everything he has been devoid of since going to LA, and even though he almost feels like he's taking advantage of Haley's vulnerability, the way she clings to him clouds his judgment.

Haley senses his apprehension and feels guilty for putting him in this situation, but after what Lucas said to her that morning, she can't help but want to feel as close a humanely possible to the man she loves.

"I just want everything to go back to normal." She whispers and her words cut him to the bone, so he pulls her up to his level and covers her mouth with a languid kiss.

Haley responds immediately, wrapping her arms around his neck as he pulls her down beneath him and she relishes the hardness of his body as he shields her from the cold in the room.

"I wish I could make this better for you." He says against her neck, planting soft kisses all the way across her collarbone.

Haley wraps herself tighter around him, "You can." She says tenderly, "You already have by just being besides me, being my rock."

Their eyes connect in the darkness, breaths mingling, and Nathan sees the overwhelming sadness in her eyes and he knows she's not lying.

So he kisses her again, harder this time, pulling her on top of him as her hands expertly travel down his body, making him shiver.

No other woman has ever come close to eliciting such a physical response from him and as he feels himself react to her touches, he knows there's no turning back now and reaches up behind her to unsnap her bra clasp.

She gives him a small smile and then a sharp intake of breath as his hands travel up her ribcage and settle on her breasts.

She leans down and kisses him gently but passionately and murmurs against his lips,

"I love you."

He runs his hand over her cheek, not missing the sorrow in her eyes and says,

"I love you too Hales."

He removes the rest of the barriers between them and a delicious moan escapes her mouth.

Nathan promises that he'll get her though this.

He has to, because without her, nothing in his life is worthwhile.

***

He brings her to one of the small coffee shops she passed on her way here. He holds the door for her as they step inside and the warm smell of baked goods intermixed with the rich aroma of coffee makes her feel better than she has in days.

They both order muffins and giant lattes and Brooke ignores the warm feeling she has in the pit of her stomach as they simultaneously put the same amount of sugar into their coffees and stir.

Julian watches her as she breaks her blueberry muffin apart and wonders how he has come to have coffee with this woman, given the circumstances.

He doesn't ask her why she walked into that record store, nor does he wonder why she gravitated towards the vintage section, because he's not stupid.

He's barely touched on his own pain, the shock of what he found out this morning is still fresh, still impalpable, but he knows she's had time to process this. He understands that unlike him, she's passed the stage of denial.

He knows she's distraught, broken beyond repair after what has transpired, so he does what he thinks he'd want someone to do for him if he were in her situation; he distracts her.

He inquires about her fashion line, about living in New York City, about any good movies she's seen recently, and despite the proverbial elephant in the room, Brooke responds in length. Not just the two word answers she's given everyone else who has asked her these questions, but actual long detailed explanations.

She describes fashion week and they laugh over how high maintenance models can be. They both know, because Brooke has worked with them and Julian has dated several. They compare New York and LA, both staunch supporters of their respective cities. Brooke finds herself smiling, really smiling, and her dimples pop out when Julian talks about the tantrums some of the directors he's worked with have thrown.

"Talk about high maintenance." He comments as their light laughter settles down.

He looks at the two empty coffee mugs and the half eaten pastries between them and knows they can't stay in this bubble for long.

It's inevitable that one of them will mention it and as he watches her nervously twist the rings on her fingers, he knows it will be him.

"That was one of her favorite record stores." Julian says softly, gauging her reaction, wondering if he should continue.

Brooke meets his eyes and takes a breath,

"Really?"

Julian nods, a fond smile playing on his lips as he lets himself remember, "Yeah, she used to sneak out there for her lunch break and spend ridiculous amounts of money on music she always had to justify to me."

Brooke chuckles in spite herself, because Julian's reaction to Peyton's music is similar to hers. Yet as he talks about the playful quarrels the two used to have over the radio station, it dawns on her that Julian may not have spoken to her best friend in almost a year, but he is probably still not over her, like Peyton thought he was.

It makes Brooke feel sad and selfish, because she's forced herself on this guy without realizing that the wound for him is also still fresh, no matter how much time has passed.

"I'm sorry." She blurts suddenly and is embarrassed that she interrupted Julian's reminiscence.

"You're sorry?" He raises an eyebrow and Brooke fidgets in her seat.

"Yeah, I am. I didn't realize…what I mean is I've been so focused on myself, I didn't understand-…"

She is stammering, doesn't know how to explain herself to Julian and she's never felt more insecure before.

Even though he doesn't know her, Julian can see that and knows what she's apologizing for.

So to make her feel better, he reaches across the small table, squeezes her hand, and says, "You have lost so much more than I have, and it's okay to focus on your own grief."

Brooke isn't sure if she should be put off or grateful for his admission, but either way she has little time to contemplate, because her phone vibrates against her hip.

She mumbles an apology to Julian, who nods in understanding, and she retrieves her Blackberry.

She flips open the screen and sees the text from Lucas.

_Where are you? I'm worried._

It's simple, but it makes her heart constrict and suddenly she's chewing her lower lip, considering her next move.

Does she stay or does she go?

Julian sees her ambivalence and smiles ruefully, "You have to go?"

Brooke stays still for a moment, but ultimately nods, "Yeah, I think I do."

But it's not she who makes the effort to get up; Julian pushes back his chair and stands up, "It's getting late anyway."

She nods, dismayed at the abrupt interruption in their conversation and her weakness when it comes to the blond boy even when she's incredibly pissed at him.

They walk outside in silence and the cold air sobers her up. Julian turns to her and she doesn't know what to say.

"So it was very nice to meet you Brooke Davis, in spite of the circumstances."

Brooke smiles softly, agreeing, "It was a pleasure to talk to you, Julian Baker."

"Take care of yourself, Brooke." He says and she'd like to believe he really means it, because no one has said that to her in a while.

She knows he's being polite, but nevertheless it warms her and she finds herself saying,

"You should really come to Tree Hill."

She can't say funeral for the life of her, it just seems so wrong and unnatural.

"I'll think about it, okay?" He replies and Brooke nods, because there isn't much else to say and she really wouldn't expect him to show up.

He doesn't need to be reminded of everything he's lost if he doesn't need to be.

"That's all I ask." She smiles, a bit too brightly for the situation and Julian finds himself actually considering going to Tree Hill.

Brooke waves him good bye and starts walking away in the direction of Peyton's apartment, when it dawns on him,

"Hey, do you know your way back from here?" He calls to her and Brooke turns around, nodding,

"Yea I do."

And as he watches her walk away, it doesn't escape him that she probably knew her way back all along.

***


	3. Chapter 3: Reel In My Emotions

Conviction

Disclaimer: Don't own anything…unfortunately. Lyrics by Shinedown.

Rating: M

Spoiler: Season 4.

Pairings: Lucas/Brooke/Julian, Nathan/Haley

A/N: Thank you for all the wonderful reviews for the last chapter. You guys keep me going. This part is dedicated to Angell4NEPatriots, she knows why!

***

Chapter 3: Reel In My Emotions

***

"_My eyes are open wide  
By the way, I made it through the day…"_

The apartment is dark and quiet when she slips past the front door and takes off her jacket. She is about to flick on the lights when she sees a blond head of hair sticking out from behind the couch and when she moves closer, she frowns realizing there's a bottle of Scotch besides a lowball glass on the coffee table.

When she surveys the tormented expression on Lucas' face as he lies in a fitful sleep, she's tempted to take a heavy gulp of the amber liquid herself, but decides on a cigarette instead.

She knows it's a disgusting habit, but over the years she's lived in New York no one's come close to being important enough to quit for and she really isn't as concerned with her own health these days.

It's stupid, but now especially she just doesn't care and she pauses to look at the broken man sprawled out on the couch.

She reaches out and brushes hair from his forehead, before standing up, and trying to escape the sinking feeling that a long, long time ago, the boy on the couch might have been someone important enough.

The first hit of nicotine relaxes her at once. She sinks into the cushions by the window and watches the streetlights flicker as she blows smoke out the open window.

"Since when do you smoke?"

His voice startles her and she turns around, a half finished cigarette poised at her lips.

"Can't give you an exact date and time, but I'd say pretty soon after you visited me in New York."

She knows she's being a little spiteful in her tone and in the rehashing of painful memories, but he always gets away with saying mean and thoughtless things to her, so maybe she can too.

Lucas ignores her comment as he sits up and stretches,

"Where'd you go?"

He asks instead, keen on changing the subject but Brooke just shrugs and continues smoking,

"I was around." She answers and looks away, exhaling out the window.

She doesn't notice Lucas give her his signature, squinty look.

He doesn't respond, instead Brooke listens to the clink of glass and the pouring sound of liquid. She doesn't turn around until Lucas has had a stiff drink from the bottle.

She stubs out her cigarette and slides off the alcove, "Well, I'm going to bed. Don't indulge yourself too much; we've got a lot of packing to do before our flight tomorrow night."

She says it so casually it makes Lucas sick. He feels guilty all of the sudden, because he spent two hours worrying about Brooke and then falling asleep unwillingly, and the whole time the reason for their trip has stayed in the back of his head, not invading his thoughts like it has for the last two days.

He doesn't know if it's a good or bad thing, but as Brooke slides past him, he grabs her wrist. She stops, stares him down with a menacing gaze that reminds him of the days he thought Brooke Davis was just an ice queen and nothing more.

But she doesn't try to pull away, she lets him hold her hand and run his thumb over her wrist bone.

"I know you don't want to hear it, but I am sorry for what I said earlier."

Their eyes connect in the darkness and she softens immediately upon seeing his sincerity; however, Brooke knows Lucas has a trend of saying things and apologizing for them later, expecting people to forgive him.

"I know your life is anything but perfect. I know your mother-…"

"How would you know Lucas?" She spits out venomously, a hint of coldness in her voice, "You and I are not exactly friends. God, we haven't even spoken since that night."

Her voice trails off and it's Lucas who has nothing to say. It's true that he hasn't spoken to Brooke in a while, but he has been keeping tabs on her. Sometimes, out of sheer curiosity he will Google her name and see what she's up to. Other times, if he stumbles upon an interview with her in a magazine or on TV, he'll drop whatever he is doing to watch or read about her.

Once Haley caught him staring at a _Vanity Fair_ feature on her and he told her it's because he likes seeing his prediction coming true. Outwardly, he watches her, because he knows she is destined for great things, but secretly, he is so incredibly proud of her when he sees her success that it's beyond just a passage in his novel.

It's his sincere respect and admiration for her that takes over.

But he knows if he admits any of this to Brooke right now, whatever delicate thread that's holding them together will burst, because her first priority is facing a world without her oldest and dearest friend and that should take precedence over his relationship to her.

So, he drops her hand and stands up, so that they're face to face and although Brooke avoids his eyes, he doesn't let her go,

"I know we're not friends Brooke, but we're here, because of something terrible that's happened and I have no right or actual desire to make it any worse on you by demanding things from you or accusing you, so even if we are not friends, I am still very sorry and don't want you to have any added stress right now."

"Lucas-…"

"No, listen to me." He says softly, taking her hand even as the brunette hesitates, "I know we're not friends and it kills me to know that it is more my fault than yours, but I know that Nathan, Haley and everyone back in Tree Hill are the best way for you to heal. So that's the only reason I suggested you come home, not because I'm envious of your life or because I think you're too good for Tree Hill, but only for that reason, because I think being together in this will help all of us."

Brooke is a bit shocked by his declaration and secretly wonders if he spent the last two hours rehearsing this apology, but she knows from experience that Lucas has always had a way with words and although she really doesn't want to believe him, she knows he is right.

Tree Hill has always been home and she doesn't know if she'll be strong enough to remain in a place where everything reminds her of Peyton, but she has to try.

"I thought about it on my way home." She says, "And maybe I can stay for a few days after the funeral."

Lucas smiles softly when he feels the smallest squeeze of her hand in his, but he doesn't miss the shine of tears in her eyes, "That's great Brooke."

She nods, but doesn't say anything.

Her face feels hot all of the sudden and she isn't sure what has brought this on, but she knows, she knows the little game of pretend she had with Julian for the few hours is over and its not coming back, because Peyton isn't coming back and all that she feels is overwhelming guilt and despair.

Her best friend is gone, and she actually let herself forget about it.

Ignoring Lucas' bewildered stare, she clasps her hand over her mouth to muffle her sob and tries to pull away from him, but the blond doesn't let her go.

He also doesn't ask what's wrong; he simply pulls her closer, clenches her to his body as she loses her battle with control and tears leak from tired eyes as sobs shudder her body.

"Brooke what's wrong?" He asks but it's in vain, because they both know she'll never tell him.

She won't disclose where she'd gone tonight or where the last two years have taken her, but Lucas doesn't let her go. He isn't angry that she's silent, because she isn't pulling away, she's letting him hold her and soak his t-shirt with her salty tears, and he knows that this is Brooke's way of letting him in, so he'll make the most of it.

She shakes in his arms and he decides that maybe she should lie down. She doesn't protest when he picks her up and moves her over to the makeshift bed, lying down besides her and pulling her against him as if it's the most natural action in the world.

There's a silence in the room that's interspersed with soft sobs as Brooke wraps her arms tighter around herself, trying to ignore the hollow feeling that just won't go away.

Lucas lies besides her, watching as she shakes, but can do nothing because as far as he knows, she hasn't let herself fully realize what's going on. She's kept it all inside and they both know she needs to let it go.

God knows he's done it and despite it not alleviating the ache in his heart, there's a strange sense of clarity that envelops him and he knows Brooke needs it too.

It won't make anything better, he knows, but neither will keeping it in.

So he holds her and lets her cry into his shoulder and when she whispers I'm sorry, he convinces himself that it's directed towards him, rather than the blonde artist he finds himself silently apologizing to every day.

***

Haley isn't exactly sure what wakes her up, but when she sees her husband lying wide awake besides her, she's glad she isn't asleep anymore. Nathan lies rigidly, staring at the ceiling with the sheet around his waist. She doesn't take even a second to admire his broad shoulders and chiseled chest when he speaks,

"I don't remember the last time I saw her."

His voice is barely above a whisper, but the sorrow evident in his words makes Haley scoot closer to him and wrap her arms around him, even though he remains as stiff as a board.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I don't remember the last time I saw Peyton. I don't remember if it was the Christmas break of our freshman year in college or if she came back home after that ever again." Nathan explains and even as he speaks, Haley feels the impending doom, because it dawns on her that she can't remember either.

"I think it was that break, because Lucas and she broke up that spring."

Nathan takes a deep breath and gulps down much needed air.

The revelation makes him sick and burns his insides as he thinks about it even more.

"She was my oldest friend Hales. She, Brooke, and I, at one point it was us against the world and before Lucas, I swore to protect them both and look what happened. I couldn't save her Haley, because I wasn't even there, I didn't even fucking see her for over two years and-…"

Haley can't bear to hear anymore, because she knows that on some level Nathan's guilt is not unfounded.

"Nathan, honey, you cannot blame yourself for what happened; you just can't. It's not like you were idling all these years, you have a family, and you had to fight for your dreams. Peyton wouldn't hold that against you."

She reaches out to touch his cheek and is shocked to find moisture there. Nathan hasn't cried since Jamie was born and even then, they were happy tears, not the salty, brackish liquid that burns his cheeks now.

"I'm not saying you and Jamie aren't important to me Hales, but it doesn't change anything." He says more resolutely now, as if he has finally reached whatever horrible conclusion he was mulling over.

"I know it doesn't, but you can't blame yourself for what happened. It isn't your fault."

Even as she says it, Haley knows her words are hollow and fall on deaf ears. She thinks, no she knows that tenacity is a gene that all Scott men inherit, but she wishes for once that were not the case.

"Maybe if we had kept in touch, maybe if I had flown down to see her a couple times; maybe things would have-…"

"No, Nathan you can't think like that." Haley admonishes, but her tone is weak, because she knows her protests are fruitless.

She knows Nathan won't let this go.

"I can't help it." He murmurs and this time Haley pulls him into a deep hug. Their bodies, free of barriers, fit together seamlessly and Haley lets Nathan lose himself in the only tangible form of comfort she can provide at this point.

"I should have been there. Somehow, some way I should have been there." He murmurs into the crook of her neck and Haley soothingly runs her fingers through his hair as he cries.

He never hid his tears from her, but whereas before he was composed, he isn't now and her heart aches for this man who feels as broken by his friend's passing as his brother.

And as Nathan cries into her shoulder and she whispers calming words into his ear, Haley muses about how different the two Scott brothers are, but how they have two things in common: their painfully alluring blue eyes and their unconditional love for Peyton Sawyer.

***

The plane ride is mostly silent, occasionally interspersed with bouts of empty conversation. Neither mentions the previous night, the argument they had, Brooke storming out, Lucas lying down with her as she cried, or her waking up to almost all the boxes packed up in the living room and a cup of coffee sitting on the table besides her makeshift bed.

Staring out the window of the airplane, Brooke thinks about the blond boy sitting besides her. She knows he is sorry for what he said and that he's more than made up for it, by staying awake most of the night, watching over her, packing up boxes for her, and making her breakfast, but she can't shake the unnerving feeling that haunts her every time she thinks back on their conversation.

She just never really thought Lucas of all people could think so hideously of her and touch such a nerve for her that it has her thinking about it even a day later.

The stewardess passes and Brooke declines the complimentary peanuts. Her gaze falls on the slumbering man besides her. He is clearly so exhausted from the recent events and the night he spent packing alone that he fell asleep almost immediately after take off.

He looks so innocent, free of worry, and incredibly young. He doesn't look like someone who has lost so much in his 21 years on earth and Brooke reaches out in spite herself to squeeze his hand, wondering why it is that she can be so honest with him only when he's semi conscious.

Despite that he's been sleeping for a while now, Brooke can still hear soft music playing through his IPod headphones and pulls the device towards her from curiosity. She doesn't recognize the song, but she isn't surprised, considering Lucas and she never had much in common, music included, but she does not miss the significance of the playlist, the dozens of songs that no doubt remind him of his first love, his soul mate, his Peyton.

Brooke shuts her eyes, the curly blonde never far from her mind, and puts the gadget back on Lucas's lap.

She looks back out the window and tries to concentrate on something other than Lucas and the playlist titled "Blondie".

Her curiosity does not extend beyond that, although if it did, she'd see that there is a playlist named after her as well, one that Lucas has devoted a lot of time to recently.

But not that it would make any difference whatsoever.

They weren't soul mates to begin with, at least not in her mind.

***

It's hectic in the airport when they arrive through the gate, but even in the throng of people they both still spot the blonde man who is supposed to pick them up.

Her breath hitches in her throat as she pushes people aside and hurriedly makes her way to the only father figure she's truly ever known. Lucas isn't far behind her, but Brooke doesn't even notice until she's approached him.

"Hi." She says breathlessly and before Larry can even reply, the girl who is like a second daughter to him falls into his arms. He wraps his arms around her instinctually, noticing that she's thinner than the last time he saw her and his throat tightens, because that's what he'd always say to his kid when he came home from long dredging jobs.

Brooke holds onto him, trying hard not to cry, because seeing Larry reminds her of the guilt that lurks in her mind. He asked her to take care of his little girl when they boarded the plane to LA three years ago, and she failed him.

She failed Peyton.

Over his shoulder, Larry locks eyes with Lucas and he gives him a small smile, because it seems like this boy needs at least a little bit of reassurance that everything will be okay; and despite that Larry doesn't know if he'll ever recover from the shock of losing his daughter, he can't help but feel fatherly concern for Lucas and the defeated expression on his face.

Brooke eventually pulls back but not before murmuring into Larry's ear how great it is to see him and how sorry she is.

Wiping a few tears from her cheekbones rather discreetly, she gives Larry a rather mothering stare,

"You look exhausted. We should've just taken a cab." She apologizes but the older man is already shaking his head,

"Nonsense, no kids of mine will take cabs." He says sincerely and Brooke feels her eyes burning again, she throws her arms around Larry again, but the embrace is brief and when they pull apart, Larry smiling in spite of his own emotions, Lucas approaches the pair.

"It's good to see you Mr. Sawyer."

He extends his hand, but Larry shakes his head and pulls the younger man closer, enveloping him in a hug Lucas didn't know he needed.

"It's great to see you." Larry says, "Rake boy."

And the nickname makes all three of them smile fondly. There's a moment of silence until they realize they're in the middle of a bustling airport, so Larry grabs Brooke's bag and escorts the two outside towards his truck.

The car ride is silent but not awkward. All three occupants are lost in their own thoughts for the most part, but Brooke peels her gaze away from the window long enough to watch Larry behind the wheel.

He appears calm but she knows better. His deep blue eyes, though no actual relation to Peyton's, expose his emotions just as his daughter's always had.

He seems lost, broken, but trying very had to keep it together for their sake and she suddenly has an idea,

"Larry, I'm staying in Tree Hill for as long as I can and I would like to stay with you."

She says so in one long breath and Lucas suddenly sits up in his seat, "I thought you were going to stay at my house."

Brooke turns around, biting her lip. She isn't sure what to say, how to explain her sudden urge to spend time with Larry, and she doesn't want Lucas to misconstrue her actions so she looks at him with pleading eyes for just a split second before turning to Larry.

"With Karen, Andy, and Lilly back, Lucas's house is really crowded and Nathan and Haley have Deb staying with them, so I'm basically homeless. What do you say?"

Larry looks at her knowingly; well aware of her intentions even as she tries to hide them, "You do realize it's a one bedroom bungalow on the beach."

"I've always loved the ocean." She says smiling tightly.

Larry lets out a chuckle and looks in the review mirror. Lucas is now gazing out the window, not paying much attention to the conversation in the front.

"I'll even take the couch." Brooke adds pleadingly.

Larry hesitates as he tears his eyes away from Lucas, "Are you sure you wouldn't be comfortable elsewhere?"

His words have a double meaning and they both know it, but Brooke shakes her head vehemently, replying, "No, I'm right where I want to be."

And despite feeling like there's more to her statement, Larry reluctantly agrees.

***

Upon finding out that she was Peyton's closest friend, the Reverend asks her to speak. At first she's touched by the offer, after all there are far more eloquent people in her best friend's life who can do a much better job at eulogizing, but as soon as she steps into the church, she regrets ever saying yes to the reverend's offer.

It doesn't escape her that the service is held at the only church in Tree Hill, the one where Haley and Nathan renewed their vows, the one where Jamie was christened, the one where undoubtedly Lucas and Peyton would have wed if she hadn't rejected his proposal.

As she makes her way to the front pew, Lucas turns and meets her eye. He's flocked at both sides by Haley and Karen, who welcome her with restrained smiles and sympathetic looks. He doesn't look any better, eyes blood shot and mouth creased in a frown as he merely nods her way and turns around.

She wants to throw up.

The only honest expression anyone gives her are her god son and Lilly, who sit on either side of Andy, too young to understand what's going on, but being respectful of the quietude because their mothers told them so.

The raven haired girl smiles softly at her, eyes shining in partial recognition and partial bewilderment and it reminds Brooke so much of Keith that she feels the prickle of tears that come too early.

Jamie looks at her innocently as well, but he also recognizes her and the unbridled love in his blue eyes makes her want to curl up into a ball and make the world disappear.

Larry's gentle probe on her elbow forces Brooke out of the reverie as they sit down and Brooke is almost thankful for the blinding strip of sunlight that filters through the massive stain glass church windows, because it gives her an excuse to slip her sunglasses on.

This way no one can see her cry.

***

"…And now, one of Peyton's closest and dearest friends will say a few words, Brooke?"

The Reverend looks down at her from the stage and she sucks in a breath as she realizes what he's instructing her to do. She nods to him with a tight smile, pulls her sunglasses off, puts down her clutch, and on unsteady feet ascends the stage.

On her way, she passes by Nathan, who discreetly brushes her hand in reassurance. She doesn't look at him, but when she finds herself at the podium, she looks down and mouths a thank you to the boy she's known since diapers.

God, things were simpler then.

She's aware as she unfolds the piece of paper she brought with her, that the entire church is silent.

Besides the swish of wind coming from the open doors and the occasional hiccupping sob, the auditorium is extremely quite and Brooke takes a deep breath to steady her nerves.

"When Reverend Thomas asked me to speak…" She begins, but her throat is suddenly so dry, she can barely croak the words out, her palms are sweaty and she clutches the podium to the point that her knuckles turn white.

This is what a panic attack must feel like, she muses, and tears burn her vision in humiliation, because not only did she fail in saving her best friend, but also she can't even properly remember her.

She opens her mouth to apologize at her inability to do this, and that's when she sees him.

He's leaning against the entrance of the church and looks anything but relaxed.

However, the sunshine behind him bathes him in a shroud of light so he looks like an angel and even though she can't see his face and can't exactly explain why his presence sends a wave of calm through her, she doesn't think about it.

She just opens her mouth and speaks.

She abandons the messy scribbles she prepared and instead improvises.

Although, it really isn't improvisation when you're speaking from the heart and as Brooke showers the room with details of her 15 year friendship with Peyton Sawyer, she doesn't look down at the front pew, where the people closest to her reside. Instead she finds herself looking over them, to the church entrance, where a complete stranger who offered her the smallest bit of comfort, now offers her the most encouraging smile he can under the circumstances and gives her strength to remember her best friend in the fondest way possible.

Her hands are still shaking as she completes her eulogy and steps off the stage.

When she slides in besides Larry, the older man grabs her hand in a gentle squeeze and suddenly tears are cascading down her cheek without reprieve. Larry wraps an arm around her and Karen reaches across the aisle to grasp Brooke's hand.

Brooke smiles at both of them, but all she really wants to do is turn around.

As the Reverend makes his final parting comments, she finally summons enough courage to tilt her head backwards and is not at all surprised that he is gone.

She wills herself to focus on the rest of the service, because they'd only gone through one part of it and she feels like any moment she'll break again.

But she can't shake her thoughts of him and as they file out of the church, heading towards the cemetery, Brooke finds herself searching for him on the street.

She's convinced herself that all she wants to do is thank him and let him know where the wake will be, but even as she tries to do so, she feels the deceit seep into her bones.

She knows she's selfish.

Instead of mourning her best friend, she searches for a man she's barely acquainted with and she knows she'll pay for it later, when she's alone, unable to fall asleep in the dark, thinking about how jaded she's become, with no one to hold her as she cries herself to sleep.

***

He's not at the cemetery and he's not at the wake, so when Lilly and Jamie approach her, the former reaching out to touch her dress and commenting on how pretty it is, Brooke decides to forget about him for a while and focus on making sense of this event for two innocent three year olds.

They sit on the overstuffed loveseat at Nathan and Haley's, a kid on each side, and Brooke absentmindedly runs her fingers through blond and brunette strands, feeling the presence of childhood innocence warm her frayed heart just a little bit.

She's too entranced by a story Jamie's telling her about his pet rabbit Chester, to notice the older woman approach until she speaks,

"You're a natural."

Brooke looks up to find Karen standing before her with two cups of what appears to be tea.

"It's good to see you Karen." She murmurs as she accepts the mug and holds it with two hands.

"I'm sorry we haven't had a chance to talk, honey." Karen explains, but Brooke is already shaking her head.

"It's okay, I completely understand, everything has been so hectic."

Karen is about to speak, when Lilly pulls lightly on her dress, "Mommy."

"Yes sugar plum?"

"I'm hungry. Can Jamie and I go get the cookies?"

Brooke smiles in spite herself when she sees the hopeful look on Lilly's face and Karen nods,

"Sure, I need a minute with Aunt Brooke anyway."

A few moments after, the two women step out to the backyard and sit down on some lounge chairs.

It's quiet, because everyone is inside and the children have been instructed not to make too much noise.

The sun beams down on them, absorbing heat through their dark attire, and Brooke slips her sunglasses back on to avoid the blinding sunshine.

"So how have you been Brooke?" Karen says quietly and Brooke shrugs.

"Been better, I guess." She admits, swishing the remaining tea at the bottom of her mug.

"It will get better you know." Karen states but despite always heeding the wise woman's words, Brooke has the weirdest urge to laugh in her face.

But looking at Karen's kind eyes and soft demeanor, Brooke remembers that if anyone can say that and actually mean it, it would be Karen herself.

Once upon a time, the brunette lost someone very close to her, and will always be reminded of him through their daughter.

"I honestly don't know how you do it, Karen." Brooke admits, sinking deeper into the chair, "Don't get me wrong, Lilly's wonderful. She's smart, sassy, and incredibly cute, but I can't even take a walk through this forsaken town without something reminding me of Peyton, and you have this living, breathing, gorgeous little human being to remind you of Keith everyday. I don't know how I'd survive that."

It's the first honest to god conversation she's had with anyone regarding Peyton's death, so when Karen reaches out and touches Brooke's hand, all the brunette wants to do is curl up and cry.

But instead, she squeezes Karen's hand and listens to her.

"I'm not going to say it hasn't been hard, but I get by each day, because I have people who I love around me. If I didn't have Andy with me or Lucas, I'm not sure how I would cope with Keith's death."

Karen's words echo Lucas', when he suggested she move back to Tree Hill and Brooke is about to tell Karen how well she's raised her son, when Nathan steps outside and calls her name.

"Brooke, there's a guy at the front door; he says he's an old friend from LA?" Nathan looks at her unsurely, knowing he's interrupted an important conversation to both women.

She knows it's him and she swallows, wondering why on earth he made his way out here and how he even knew about it, but she can't help the small flutter that settles in her heart when Nathan interrupts them.

She looks over at Karen, about to apologize for cutting their conversation short, but the older woman is already waving her off, "Go, you and I will have plenty of time to talk."

"Are you sure?" Brooke bites her lip, but she's already standing up and when Karen nods in understanding, Brooke squeezes her hand and follows Nathan into the living room.

She doesn't expect him to walk besides her through the house, but he does and when she's about to reach the front door, he grabs her arm gently to turn her around,

"Brooke, are you okay?" He asks, genuine concern etched on his tired features and Brooke almost feels guilty for not acknowledging him properly for everything he's done for her since LA, so she nods and pulls him into an impulsive hug.

The brunettes stand embracing for a few minutes, until Brooke catches Lucas watching them from the corner of the dining room and realizes who is on the other side of the door. So she pulls back and touches Nathan's cheek lovingly,

"I'll be right back and then we can talk, okay?" she tells him softly in her raspy voice that no male within three feet of her can resist and Nathan nods, watching as she slips passed the front door.

It only occurs to him that he didn't ask who she was meeting until he catches his brother's watchful stare just as Lucas turns away.

***

She thinks something must be seriously wrong with her, because here she is at her best friend's wake, more nervous about talking to this man than facing the rest of her life without P. Sawyer in it.

That thought is terrifying of course, but it seems almost surreal, fantastical, difficult to grasp, so Brooke avoids any thoughts of Peyton's absence, preferring instead to focus on this stranger she's drawn to against her will.

He's standing with his back to her, no doubt observing the almost mansions in this swankier part of Tree Hill. She knows he read Lucas' book, so she wonders if he's imaging the Tree Hill from that novel, comparing it to the town as it is today, four years and about ten Starbucks shops later.

"So you decided to come," She says by way of greeting and when he turns around, a flash of admiration passes in his brown eyes, but Brooke is too far away to see, choosing the pillar on the front porch as a soft of shield from Julian's knowing glances.

She realizes she feels exposed around him, even for the short time that they've interacted, but she isn't afraid. She feels exhilarated in his presence, as if she doesn't need to keep her guard up, with his non judgmental eyes around her.

"Yeah," He nods, and the silence ensues, because neither of them knows what to say.

"The service was beautiful." He adds, just to fill in the void and Brooke begins to think it was a bad idea to come outside, it occurs to her then that he'd asked for her specifically.

"Yes it was. So Nathan, he's the guy who you asked to get me-…"

"Brooke, I know who Nathan is, I'm not entirely sport retarded." He says with a half smirk and Brooke immediately relaxes,

"Right, I forgot he recently got drafted."

"Yeah, you're probably wondering why I asked for you huh?"

All of the sudden, he looks nervous, she notes. He's kicking a pebble, scuffing his shoes, and looking anywhere but her.

"Yeah I actually was." She replies, but softly, so he doesn't think she thinks it's weird that he did, even though she does think so.

Mostly, she just doesn't want to scare him off, because she sees the look in his eyes, it's the same one she sported the night they ran into each other, and when Julian asks her if she wants to go grab a drink, she doesn't hesitate in accepting.

Because he's given her a distraction before, and who is she not to return the favor.

***

They end up at The Blue Post and Brooke has to laugh, because despite this being the only bar opened on a Wednesday afternoon, she thinks it's somehow fate's intervention that they find themselves here.

So many of her important moments are associated with this place, it seems only fitting that she would mourn her best friend here.

They sit in the empty bar, both nursing drinks they're not really paying attention to, when Julian's voice breaks through the quietude,

"I think it hit me on the plane ride here." He says softly, watching amber liquid swirl in his glass.

Brooke doesn't say anything, because she knows what he's talking about and decides that if he wants to elaborate, he will.

"I suddenly remembered how it felt to lose her the first time around; I remember feeling so upset, flying to Sundance, thinking I was making a huge mistake letting her go. Now, I wish I hadn't, because now I can't ever get her back and somehow I think it's my fault-…"

"Don't be stupid, Julian." She blurts out accidentally and his sideways glance is indication enough that he's surprised by such a bold comment coming from a complete stranger. But then, Brooke reasons, she knows a lot more about him than he knows, thanks to the long conversations she and Peyton used to have when they were dating, so she'll say what's on her mind.

"What I mean is," she clears her throat, "I don't think it's your fault and I highly doubt Peyton would see it that way."

Julian grimaces involuntarily at the mention of the blonde's name and Brooke throws back a shot, because it's hard for her to acknowledge the reality they've found themselves in and she longs to escape it.

"But what if it is…my fault." His tone is soft, scared almost, trying hard to conceal his deepest fear, and as Brooke watches him from the corner of her eye, her heart breaks all over again, because she isn't sure how to help him.

She doesn't seem to be returning the favor successfully.

"Julian," She reaches out to grasp his hand in a gesture of comfort, but is momentarily silenced by the warmth of his hand, it feels good to have some human contact and she doesn't mind that it's him at all.

"How can you even say that it's your fault? If anything, you probably made her the happiest she's ever been in LA."

Julian looks at her, surprised and Brooke smiles softly, "You think my best friend didn't tell me when she fell in love with a new boy? C'mon Julian give me some credit."

Her tone is playful, but even he can tell that it masks a heavy load of insecurity and guilt, because she is expecting Julian to be surprised, considering how far she and Peyton had drifted apart since her move to New York, and especially after her break up with Julian.

Julian knows this, but doesn't say anything about it, instead he smirks into the bottom of his glass and nods, "I guess I never thought I was important enough to be mentioned, considering I was a footnote in someone else's love story."

His comment is brash and catches Brooke off guard, mostly because of its honesty and familiarity, but it also upsets her, because on this day especially, bitterness has to take a backseat, because today isn't about remembering one's indiscretions or shortcomings, but remembering the goodness of their soul.

Most importantly, Brooke thinks she can't be even more of a shittier friend than she's been and despite it not mattering anymore, she feels the need to defend her best friend, so she says,

"Julian, that is, first of all, not true and second of all, I don't think this is the appropriate time to remember something like that."

Her openness continues to surprise him and vice versa, so as they lock eyes, it almost feels like their locked in a competition of who can outsmart the other.

"Any more appropriate than skipping her wake to get shitfaced?" He quips back and Brooke's jaw tightens.

The bartender is about to approach them for refills, but Brooke stops him with her gaze and sends Julian a narrowed stare, before returning to her empty glass, "You asked me here." She says quietly, demeanor slowly becoming subdued.

"You're right, I am an ass." He admits, pinching the bridge of his nose in exhaustion, "It's just that, on the plane ride here, I realized that I'm never going to see her again, never see her smile, never roll my eyes at her insane musical choices, and I'm never going to smell her perfume again and it's just, it kills me, Brooke."

When he's finished, she's tearing up and wraps an arm around his shoulder, squeezing him closer to her, and in their quasi embrace, they cling to each other, for entirely different reasons.

Julian, because he's finally grasped that Peyton is gone and Brooke, because she realizes Julian still seems to be very much in love with her best friend.

And there's a slight pull on her heart when she realizes this; so when the bartender comes by again, unbeknownst to Julian, who has his head conveniently cast down and buried in her shoulder, she orders a bottle of Jack Daniels and two beers...

***


	4. Chapter 4: Bring On the Storm

**Conviction**

Disclaimer: Don't own anything…unfortunately. Lyrics by David Cook.

Rating: M

Spoiler: Season 4.

Pairings: Lucas/Brooke/Julian, Nathan/Haley

A/N: Thank you for everyone's reviews. I appreciate them more than you know. I'm sorry about the wait, I have no excuse. I hope you enjoy this chapter. There is a time jump after this, so be ready for it.

Warning: Character death.

***

Chapter 4: Bring On the Storm

***

"…_And you don't know how bad it feels  
To leave the only one that I have ever believed in…"_

Strong arms encircle her waist from behind and she leans into the embrace, knowing there's only one man who can hold her like this.

"How're you holding up?" She asks quietly, watching Lilly and Jamie by the buffet table debating between oatmeal raisin and chocolate chip cookies before deciding on both.

Nathan sighs against her and buries his nose in her hair, inhaling the sweet scent that washes calm over him.

"Been better," He murmurs uncharacteristically, his voice betraying the aloofness he's tried to maintain since they came back from LA.

Haley twists in his arms, so her back is pressed against counter and runs her hand across her husband's cheek.

She knows how hard it is for him. It's her pain magnified by a thousand more memories, a thousand more moments, and a thousand more laughs exchanged between two lovers turned best friends and she can't even fathom how she would feel, if it were her best friend…

She shuts her eyes, unable to continue the thought, and Nathan tracks her inner battle almost instinctually. That's how connected they are, two very different people but so deeply in sync sometimes it scares the living crap out of her.

Haley's always been a fighter, a silent one, but strong willed and it scares her shitless that she's found what most people look a life time for and she's barely legal enough to drink.

However, looking at her husband, no matter how composed he wants to appear, she knows she has to be the fighter yet again and remain strong for Nathan, for Jamie, and everyone else Peyton Sawyer left behind.

Nathan watches ten different emotions flash through his wife's face and pulls her into a hug, finding the only solace he can amidst the chaos, and when she speaks, his heart aches even more,

"I don't know what to say Nathan, I wish I did."

It's always been hard for Haley to admit defeat, to find out that life's worst questions didn't have logical answers, so her statement makes Nathan hold her closer. Her choice to be vulnerable and honest at such a crucial moment brings tears to his eyes. It makes him think its okay to cry and be upset and angry and even throw things if necessary.

But he doesn't.

Because about ten feet away stands a small, blond boy who doesn't understand what's happening, but he will know if daddy is sad or angry.

So as much as Nathan wants to hurl some furniture around, to help him deal with his rage and hurt, he won't, because someone else depends on him, for answers, guidance, and values, and he refuses to be his own father and be a horrible parent.

"I don't know how to make you feel better." Haley adds, playing with the lapels on his suit and it jerks Nathan out of his reprieve.

In this moment, he desperately wants to show her how much in fact her mere presence and acceptance gives him all the comfort he needs, so he reaches down and places a soft, chaste kiss on the corner of her mouth and runs his hands through her hair, murmuring,

"You're making me feel better just by being here."

Haley smiles against his chest, but Nathan knows she doesn't believe him. Yes, her touch and her presence can soothe him like no other, but nothing can alleviate the hurt, the guilt, and the grief he feels.

Nothing can bring back the curly haired girl that used to infuriate him like no other and he almost wants to shake Haley out of her pleasant state, tell her he's not okay and that he knows she doesn't believe him.

But out of the corner of his eye, he spots his brother, alone, staring out the window, looking like he's lost a part of himself, so Nathan knows he can't take his frustrations out on the beautiful woman in his arms, because he's beyond lucky that she even gave him a second glance in high school, even in her ugly poncho.

The memory makes him smile slightly and he detaches himself from Haley, about to tell her what he was thinking, when Lucas walks up to them, his eyes darting across the room like he's trying to find someone.

And when Lucas asks them if they've seen Brooke, Nathan thinks that he's lucky for an entirely different reason.

Unlike his brother, he doesn't have to search for his other half.

***

They're both really drunk, but they're not laughing or joking or even talking to each other.

Instead the atmosphere at the back of the cab is silent, but not uncomfortable.

They're each staring out the window, a considerable amount of space between them.

Brooke notices that it's nearing dusk already, which means they spent a good three hours in a secluded booth in the bar passing a full bottle of whiskey between them.

She checks her Blackberry once more and notices that there are several messages from Lucas, Nathan, and even Karen, but she doesn't reply to any of them.

The only one she called is Larry, because she figures he would worry if she didn't eventually show up at the apartment, and considering that Julian mumbled the address of his hotel to the cab driver when they first climbed in, Brooke guesses she probably won't be coming home at the moment.

She throws her phone into her bag and leans against the seat, closing her eyes when Julian suddenly speaks,

"You totally remind me of Holly Golightly right now."

Brooke turns her head, looking at him incredulously,

"What?"

"You know Audrey Hepburn, Breakfast at Tiffany's?" He clarifies; looking at her like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"I know who Holly Golightly is." Brooke rolls her eyes; her fingers slowly drop from the pearl necklace around her neck to the front of her black dress, "Why do I remind you of her?"

"I don't know." Julian shrugs, "I guess the outfit."

For the first time Brooke acknowledges just how inebriated the movie producer is. His eyes are bleary and red, his shirt is untucked, and his short brown hair is disheveled, reminding her of a certain blond boy she knows.

Guilt immediately overwhelms her as thoughts of Lucas rush past her mind. She shouldn't have left like that, in the middle of the wake, especially when they silently promised to support each other through this ordeal.

However, thinking and doing seem worlds apart right now, because although she wants to call him, ask him how he's doing, she's not making any moves to do so.

In fact, she's suddenly preoccupied with understanding why a man that barely knows her tells her she reminds him of one of the most subtly tortured literary characters she knows.

"It's not the outfit, Julian. What is it?" she asks, staring at him as mixed emotions flash across his face.

"Nothing," He mumbles, "It was stupid, forget I said anything."

But she refuses to.

"Just tell me. I can handle criticism. I'm in the fashion industry after all."

She's prepared for him to tell her it's because she seems as shallow and frivolous as the fictional character or that she resembles the dream Holly Golightly aspired to throughout the novel; however, as with many events recently, Julian surprises her.

"No, it's not like that." He says softly, his eyes flicking between the scenery and her.

He hesitates for a moment, before turning his body towards her and clearing his throat,

"I just remember this one part when the narrator first meets her, when she seems to brighten his day. She fascinates him from the very beginning, because she's unconventional and she takes his mind away from harsh realities."

Brooke waits for an interpretation, but Julian turns back to look out the window, his eyes getting lost in the greenery that he seldom sees in LA. He is kind of mad at himself for blurting out such a random comment about one of his favorite books, but he couldn't help himself.

He barely knows Brooke, but she has a youthful, kind spirit about her that reminds him of one of his favorite heroines. She's a good distraction for him at a time like this and just like Holly Golightly, she hides her pain well.

He knows she's waiting for him to continue but he doesn't. He sneaks glances at her periodically, but she's gone back to staring out the window, no doubt wondering how she ended up with a lunatic like him, getting drunk at her best friend's wake, and coming back to his hotel room.

But then Julian doesn't really know Brooke Davis too well, because the brunette isn't thinking that at all.

In fact, as they near the hotel and the cab stops, a small smile appears on her face.

They share a look as they walk up to his room and Julian smiles, because he knows she's figured it out, and maybe she thinks he's not that much of a crazy guy after all.

***

As soon as they step inside the hotel room, Julian excuses himself to the bathroom, shedding his suit jacket on the way.

He gives her a half smirk on his way out and Brooke decides to blame the alcohol for the tiniest of flutters she feels in her stomach. When the door shuts behind him, the brunette takes the opportunity to look around, momentarily intrigued by her surroundings, hoping she can learn something about this stranger from his bedroom.

Her inebriation makes her forget that this isn't actually where Julian lives, but before she remembers, Brooke catches sight of the paperback novel sitting open on the nightstand and her heartbeat quickens as she approaches it and runs her fingers over the title.

An Unkindness of Ravens

She wants to believe that it doesn't hurt anymore to see the book that's so obviously a love letter to her best friend, but it does, it hurts so badly.

And as she sits down on the bed and places the book gingerly in her lap, her vision blurs as it hits her yet again for the millionth time that she's never going to be able to tease Peyton about Lucas' words or read certain passages to her over the phone to remind her that her art changed someone's life.

It's only when she hears water running that she quickly wipes away her tears and places the book back.

When Julian comes out of the bathroom, having splashed some water on his face, he isn't sure what he expects to see, but the brunette sitting on his bed, her shoulders shaking as she tries to remain composed is an unwelcomed sight.

He walks over unsurely, not really knowing how to comfort someone who's suffered such a deep loss, but before he can sit down besides her, she looks at him, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand,

"You really love her don't you?" She asks, gesturing towards the book.

For a moment, his throat closes tightly as he thinks his secret, his whole reason for trying to contact his ex-girlfriend has been figured out, but Brooke doesn't say anything after. She makes no notice of the markings in the margins or the certain circled words.

Instead she looks at him unexpectedly and he has to figure out if he wants to run the risk of her finding out exactly why he's here or lying to her.

Because he doesn't love Peyton anymore, but he doesn't want to lose Brooke's acquaintance, so he decides to lie or at least bend the truth,

"I used to, and I think I'm going to miss her very much." He says as he slides down besides her and takes the book from her lap.

The second part is not a lie. He will miss the curly blonde, miss all the little idiosyncrasies that made up her incredible personality, but in retrospect, Julian isn't sure if he ever really loved her; perhaps, he just thought he did.

Anyway, as he looks at the brunette besides him, reality crashes down on him and rids his mind of any cloudiness it might have had, because it doesn't matter anymore.

Because Peyton is gone, and whatever reason he had for calling her or buying four or five copies of Lucas Scott's novel are now irrelevant.

"I'm going to miss her too." Brooke admits tearfully, her fingers twisting in her lap as she shudders.

Julian doesn't know what to do. He's not a writer like Lucas, whom although he never met, is sure would have the right things to say; instead, Julian is a man of action, or at least he'd like to think so, so while he doesn't have words, he has something else.

Brooke gasps when he slides his arms around her and pulls her entire body against his in a hug.

At first she's rigid, but when he rubs her back soothingly, she relaxes into his touch and for the first time, she notices that his unshaved cheek is surprisingly soft against her forehead and that he smells faintly of cologne that immediately soothes her.

But the reprieve doesn't last long, because suddenly images of Peyton run through her mind, starting from when she was a tiny little nine year old crying on her father's lap after finding out that her mother had died to the smiling, confident young woman who boarded a plane to LA with her to chase their dreams.

And the guilt Brooke feels, stabs her so deeply into her heart that she physically recoils from Julian's touch.

She shouldn't be here, she thinks, as she brushes a speck of dust from her black dress and stands up.

It doesn't matter that Julian and Peyton are in the past or that there is nothing going on between her and the movie producer now, because Brooke still feels like she's somehow betraying her best friend and it all becomes too much.

It's too overwhelming for her to be here and seek comfort from a person who shared something with Peyton, so despite feeling sorry for pulling away from him, Brooke builds as much distance as possible between them.

"I'm sorry, but I have to go." She says briskly, picking up her clutch and in the process knocking over the novel.

She bends down to pick it up, but Julian is right besides her, "I got it."

His voice is colder now, and when she locks eyes with him, Brooke knows it's crossed his mind what she was thinking too, and why shouldn't it?

He probably still cares for Peyton.

They stare at each other for far too long, both kneeling down with their hands on the book, but after a moment, Julian breaks the silence,

"Do you need to call a cab?"

Everything about him softens now and Brooke can't help but smile slightly, shaking her head,

"No, thank you though."

Brooke stands up, smoothes down her dress, and heads for the door.

Julian follows her, and they both hesitate but halfway out of the room, Brooke pulls Julian into a final hug, figuring she probably won't see him before he leaves.

There doesn't seem a reason for her to.

Julian releases her and smiles, "It was nice meeting you, Brooke Davis."

"You too, Julian Baker," She nods one last time and walks away. Half way down the stairs, she stops again and turns around, not surprised that he's leaning against the door watching her,

"If you're ever in New York, look me up"

He nods, and Brooke finally walks away.

She doesn't look back again, instead takes a deep breath as she walks out into the street, because she needs all the strength she can get to go back to reality, to face this void in her heart that will never heal again.

Julian was a good distraction, Brooke reasons as she shivers in the evening air, but he can't take away the pain of knowing that Peyton is gone, she isn't coming back, and that Brooke invariably feels responsible for it.

The brunette tries to push it out of her head as she walks farther from the hotel, but she can't and when she catches a whiff of cologne different from the one Julian was wearing, her breath hitches in her throat and she pauses mid step.

She isn't sure how it's possible that after all these years and so little contact up until a tragedy of epic proportion brought them together, Brooke can still remember his scent and feel his presence without even thinking.

She turns around and sure enough, Lucas is standing a distance away from her, but close enough that she can see his suit jacket draped over his shoulder, his black tie loosened, and his white button down untucked with sleeves rolled up.

He looks so relaxed and almost ethereal against the moonlight, but she can see his hardened expression and can almost predict what he is going to say.

"So, this is where you went?" He nods towards the two-story motel, a look of disgust and hurt evident on his face.

"Lucas"

"And to think," He scoffs, but moves towards her, "I was worried about you."

"Luke, it's not like that."

She almost wants to roll her eyes at him, because despite it being a tragic day for all of them, Lucas somehow manages to make it about himself.

"How is it then, Brooke? Because it looks to me like you skipped out on your best friend's wake to meet some guy in a cheap motel room."

This time she does roll her eyes, because he's being immature,

"I don't know if you've noticed, but this is the only hotel in Tree Hill." She points out, but Lucas just shakes his head,

"Whatever, Brooke"

He starts to walk away, and even thought five minutes ago, she would have been glad that he got off her ass, the way he says her name it's as if he's disappointed and she can't bear it.

Probably, because she's just as upset at herself, so she stalks after him and turns him around,

"What the hell is it, Lucas? What is your problem?" She exclaims.

"I don't have a problem, Brooke."

He says her name again and she cringes, stepping away from him as he takes a step closer,

"It's just strange to me that you would leave Peyton's wake, for god's sakes to meet up with some guy."

He says it so accusingly, her fists curl.

"It's not fucking like that. He was just a friend who was in town." Brooke explains, but even as she says it, it comes out all wrong, and all she wants to do is cry.

She's reached her breaking point and Lucas doesn't even care.

"Hah, so you couldn't wait to socialize until we could at least bury your best friend." He scoffs and when he sees the expression on her face, he's reminded of the day in LA when he'd crossed the line with her, and it seems like this time she'll be less forgiving.

All color drains from Brooke's face when he says this; guilt, embarrassment, and hurt swirl inside her as she realizes how unfair this all is.

Doesn't he know she's protecting him?

Doesn't he realize what it would do to him if he ever found out that Peyton had been in a relationship while Lucas couldn't let anyone near him with a ten foot pole besides occasionally his editor?

No, he doesn't and Brooke doesn't expect him to, but his smug expression, only slightly marred by grief irks her to no end.

Even after all these years, Lucas Scott is still the only man who can simultaneously enrage and enthrall her, and right now he's doing the former so easily, Brooke almost doesn't regret replying,

"I wouldn't have a best friend to bury if you hadn't been such a coward."

Almost.

***

She can't fall asleep.

Her mind is everywhere and nowhere all at once.

Thoughts of Peyton keep her awake, but the exhaustion of crying everything she has left in her lulls her to unconsciousness and this tug-o-war makes her aware and disoriented all at once.

If she's being honest with herself, she knows a major part of why she can't relax is because she can't get Lucas out of her mind.

The last conversation she had with him plays over and over in her head, shocking her every time she mulls over what she said to him.

Seeing how hurt and surprised he was at her bold accusation breaks Brooke's heart all over again, but she can't help but feel angry at Lucas as well.

He has no right to intrude on her whereabouts after three years of not speaking to her.

She refuses to feel bad for consoling Julian.

But, Brooke also knows that she wouldn't have reacted so passionately to Lucas' accusations if she hadn't felt like they were partially true.

Guilt was gnawing at her the whole time she was with Julian, that's why she drank.

She couldn't get Peyton out of her mind, that's why she drank.

And now, she can't get away from Lucas' distraught expression, except this time she can't drink.

Brooke slips out of bed and walks into the kitchen. She decides a cup of tea might help her fall asleep, but before she can turn the kettle on, a faint sound that's really similar to a sob catches her ear and she turns around.

The sight breaks her heart more than anything else in the world can.

The only father she's ever known is sitting on the sofa bed, his hands on his knees as his shoulders shake violently.

She doesn't need more incentive to walk towards him and place a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Brooke doesn't know what to say, even as her own throat tightens and a few tears fight their way out.

She's shed so much, she isn't sure she has any left.

"Larry," Brooke's raspy voice breaks through the silence and the blonde man besides her shifts slightly.

He's still not looking at her; his gaze is fixed on the open book on the table.

It's the sketchpad Brooke concealed from Lucas in LA and seeing the affect it had on the other important man in P. Sawyer's life, Brooke thinks it was a good idea.

"She was so talented." He murmurs, discreetly trying to wipe away at his cheeks, and Brooke pretends not to notice.

"Yeah, she was." Brooke echoes and has to look away from the picture displayed.

It's the three of them, shooting at a flaming heart, and Brooke can't help but think that it's entirely too symbolic of everything that's happened to her over the years, and as she pulls Larry closer to her, offering the bit of comfort she can, she realizes she needs to get out of his god forsaken town.

If only to save the little sanity she has left.

***

Morning comes entirely too soon for the blond author.

He spent the night tossing and turning, not exactly sleeping and not exactly being awake.

He just couldn't get Brooke's words out of his head.

He still can't.

Does she really blame him for everything that happened? Does she really think he is responsible for Peyton's actions?

Because if she does, she's right and it kills him that she could hold it against him so easily.

He's not sure why he's so angry at her, considering the accusations he threw at her, knowing full well that she probably had a legitimate reason for leaving the wake.

But he's still angry.

He's actually incredibly pissed off, because he thought they had an understanding.

He thought they silently agreed to help each other through this and what does she do?

She leaves him all fucking alone, to deal with this.

Rolling over, Lucas stares out the window, and cringes at the sun peeking in through the open curtain.

He knows his mom must have come in at some point and pushed back the blinds to wake him up like she used to do on weekends when he would sleep in to avoid his chores.

His mind unwillingly travels to thoughts of Peyton as he remembers the nights spent in his room after Psycho Derek's attack. How he held her and promised to always save her.

And when he remembers walking out on her that morning in that hotel room, without so much as a good bye, Lucas understands that Brooke is right.

Despite the many years that passed since he last saw her, Lucas knows deep in his heart that if he hadn't left that morning, if he had only tried to make things different between them, that there would be no way Peyton would be gone right now.

The thought chills him to the bone.

He promised to save her and he never did.

He wasn't there when she needed him most and for that Lucas doesn't think he'll ever forgive himself.

***

They're all supposed to meet at Nathan and Haley's this morning, so with her single bag packed, Brooke whispers good bye to a sleeping Larry, whom she's reluctant to wake up after the sleepless night he had.

She still feels awful for how she spoke to Lucas the night before, but figures she'll apologize to him at lunch.

However, when she gets there and finds that Lucas is the only one missing from their small group of friends, Brooke is disappointed.

Everyone eats in silence, forks clink against plates and Brooke pushes her food around, too nervous to eat.

When they clear the table, she pulls Haley aside and asks her where Lucas is.

"I'm not sure," Haley shrugs, "Karen said he was still sleeping when she left and that she thought he'd be here by now, why?"

"No reason," The brunette replies, but she's trying to distract herself way too much with dirty plates for Haley to believe her.

The musician turns off the water and dries her hands on the towel before turning her attention towards one of her dearest friends.

"I know you're leaving, Brooke. I saw you try to hide the duffle bag in the hall closet when you came in."

Brooke looks up, genuinely surprised that the young mother is so perceptive, but then she reasons, Haley has always been able to spot things others couldn't.

"Do you hate me?" Brooke whispers, chocking on her words.

Despite knowing that this is the best thing for her to do right now, the fashion designer is still very much afraid of disappointing those closest to her.

She feels like she isn't being a supportive friend and although she reasons that she is allowed to be selfish right now, Brooke can't help but feel like maybe what she's doing is wrong.

"Oh honey," Haley's voice trails off as she pulls Brooke into a one armed hug, "I don't hate you. Everyone grieves differently," She adds reassuringly, but even then her words are strained and exhausted.

For the first time, Brooke steps away from her own feelings to witness Haley James Scott grieve for the blonde who shared her passion for music.

The first thought that comes to mind is that Haley looks tired. She has bags under her eyes and her hair is pulled back messily, and more importantly, her eyes aren't their usual vibrant chocolate hue.

Instead, the orbs are dark and empty, trying to conceal the ache Haley feels.

And Brooke realizes that no matter what she tries to say, Haley won't ever display how she truly feels, even if she is angry at Brooke for leaving.

"I hope that's true, but even if it's not, I, God…" she breathes out.

On unsteady legs, she braces herself shakily against the sink, trying to remain composed, even though it's so damn difficult.

Peyton is never far from her mind now, and Brooke isn't sure she ever will be.

"Its okay, Brooke," Haley soothingly rubs her back, an action that reminds Brooke of Julian and she shudders involuntarily. The movie producer solidifies her decision to go back to New York.

"I promise I'll visit more." Brooke finally manages to speak and turns to look at Haley, not really missing the flash of hurt that crosses her friend's face.

She knows what she's doing is extremely selfish, abandoning her friends when they need her most, but unlike Karen, Brooke doesn't have a gem like Lilly to remind her of all the good times she and Peyton had.

All she has is boxes full of sketches, old cheerleading uniforms, and that damn spot under the bridge where they used to go all the time and those empty mementos are not enough to keep her in Tree Hill, even if she's potentially risking the friendships that changed her.

So when Nathan walks up to them, she doesn't hesitate in telling him that she's going.

Nathan doesn't look at all surprised and shares a look with his wife that tells Brooke that he was expecting this from her and she isn't sure if she should be angry or grateful that he knows her so well and accepts it.

She kisses both Jamie and Lilly on the cheeks, promising lots of very pretty gifts for the two. She makes Karen promise her that she'll look after Larry, feeling the most guilt for leaving the only father figure she's ever known behind.

And when she hugs Haley one last time, she completely disregards the look of sadness in her friend's face, knowing that her last bit of courage must be saved for her last stop in Tree Hill.

***

Her day started out poorly and doesn't seem to be improving.

The call from Tree Hill pulled her out of a hugely important meeting that now needs to be postponed, but the rescheduling isn't what put her in a sour mood.

The news shocked and terrified her, making her sit for a half hour in her office with the lights off, trying to understand exactly how to deal with this bit of information.

Her first thoughts went out to Lucas, wondering how he was dealing with this, but when she was able to fully comprehend the tragedy, she felt an odd sense of guilt, like somehow her involvement in the blond author's life had contributed to the ending of another.

It was a hugely irrational thought but one that did not go away.

It stayed with her as she listened to Lucas ask her to come to Tree Hill.

It stayed with her while she booked a flight and grabbed a cab to the airport and it had followed her all the way through the sleepy town she'd learned to both love and hate through her numerous trips here.

Now as she sits at the back of the cab, not even irked anymore by the large coffee stain she'd obtained when someone bumped into her at baggage claim, she stares at the scenery of the suburb fly by and tries to blink back tears, feeling a little ashamed for even shedding them.

For years Peyton Sawyer was an ethereal being to her, someone to measure up to, because she always knew that Lucas held a special torch for her so a normal, healthy relationship with the brooding author was impossible, and now why is she crying for this?

She didn't know the curly blond at all, not outside the pages of Lucas' meticulously crafted novel and she has no place now to spill tears.

She doesn't want to be one of those people who infringes on other people's grief, people who knew and cared for Peyton. For those people, and from what she has surmised there are plenty of them, the loss of the blond must be grave and she has no right to be here.

Yet, one call from Lucas and here she is.

Lindsay Strauss pays the cab driver and walks towards the steps of the house she spent many months some time ago helping Lucas edit his autobiography.

She remembers nights they spent over wine and take out, just the two of them, pouring over pages and pages of his novel, trying to make it into something incredible.

Lindsay believes they've accomplished that and somewhere along the way, she found that she admired Lucas for qualities other than his writing and for a while she thought he enjoyed her company beyond a professional relationship.

However, Peyton was never far from her mind then and she isn't now, not even two months after Lucas and she have called it quits.

She hadn't heard from Lucas in about a week when he called her this morning and now thoughts of Peyton facilitate a different emotion.

Since they broke up, Lindsay wondered everyday if Lucas had finally gone back to his high school sweetheart, somehow not believing that he was over her.

Yet, now as she hesitates knocking on his bedroom door, guilt consumes and overwhelms her, because she's thought about the two blondes just last night, wondering if Lucas was on his way to reconcile with Peyton after lying to himself for about two years, and now Peyton is gone and Lindsay's here and she has the biggest urge to vomit.

She didn't even know the woman but she has intense survivor's guilt and this terrible aching in her heart that tells her that even if Peyton is gone, Lucas and she are not going to get back on track.

Even if he did call her and ask her to come down to Tree Hill, his broken, defeated voice doesn't fool her.

Lucas didn't call her because he loves her.

He calls her because he needs her.

So without hesitation, Lindsay twists the doorknob and decides right then and there that for Lucas she'll be ready for anything.

***

At first, she's put off by the darkness of the bedroom.

It's a stark contrast to the early afternoon sun that illuminates the quiet streets of this neighborhood.

However, upon further rumination, Lindsay realizes she truly did not prepare herself for anything, so she ignores the initial shock of entering the stuffy room and sets her bag delicately on the floor next to the bed.

From this angle, she can't see Lucas' face, because he's sleeping on his side, but when she walks to the other side, the unmistakable stench of stale alcohol forces her to recoil.

She steps back, observing his sleeping form.

His face looks peaceful and yet conflicted, as if he isn't sure if he has something to worry about in his sleep.

Lindsay can suddenly relate, as memories of her own father's death travel through her mind and she shuts her eyes, willing to keep the tears at bay.

Her eyes drift down to the half empty bottle of gin on the nightstand and then down to her own shirt.

The room is rather messy, so she decides that in order to help Lucas through this, she can at least tidy up the place while he sleeps; maybe make him something to eat.

It doesn't really occur to her that Karen might be in town, because she's never met the woman, so she decides on doing these basic tasks around the house.

Her eyes fall on the laundry basket and then she glances at her dirty shirt and in a split second decides to unbutton it, throw it in the hamper, and pick up something else to wear.

But then there's a knock on the door and she's in her bra, so she grabs one of Lucas' t-shirts from the folded pile and rushes to the door, hoping whoever it is doesn't wake Lucas up, because from the looks of his previous activities he's in no shape to be hospitable.

She opens the door and slips outside so quickly that she doesn't even realize who it is that's knocking.

When she does look up, she's met with a confused, hazel stare and an uncertain tight lipped smile.

"Hi, is Lucas home?"

The brunette in the tight jeans and a white wife beater asks.

Lindsay can't help but look her up and down and when her eyes settle on a small necklace that has a C/B logo on it, it dawns on her who she's talking to and she actually steps back slightly.

She recognizes suddenly that she's in the presence of one of the hottest fashion designers in the country and she's dressed in black workpants and a gray t-shirt with a Ravens logo on it.

It's obvious the brunette in front of her finds her outfit just as comical, because she gives her the once over too.

"You're Brooke Davis?" Lindsay asks quietly, her voice sounding a bit awestruck.

Brooke gives her an uncertain, tense smile and nods, "Yeah, I'm just an old friend, is he okay?"

Lindsay bites the inside of her cheek and looks down, "I'm not sure, I'm Lindsay by the way, Lucas' editor. He's sleeping right now."

And abruptly Brooke's cordial façade drops just a little bit, because the pieces all fall into place.

Lindsay wearing Lucas' shirt, him sleeping, his absence from lunch, and the awestruck expression Lindsay wears.

She obviously interrupted something just now and Lucas probably sent Lindsay out to talk to her, because he doesn't want to see her after their hurtful exchange last night.

It doesn't even cross the brunette's mind that if he's mad at her, he's a hypocrite, because he's drowning his sorrows over losing Peyton in another woman while accusing her of doing the same last night. She doesn't even think about any other reasons for why Lindsay is standing outside of Lucas' house.

So Brooke backs slightly away from the porch, stepping back uncertainly. The cab that she asked to wait gives her the perfect excuse to cut this greeting short.

"Well, just let him know I stopped by…or don't. It's all right." She fumbles, losing all the well trained confidence she'd acquired after being in the public eye.

Now she would welcome the million flashing bulbs of paparazzi cameras if only to get away from Lindsay, Lucas' t-shirt, and the images it generates in her mind.

She needs to get out of this _fucking _town.

"Brooke, are you alright?" Lindsay asks, genuinely concerned.

"Yeah, I am. I'm going back to New York and wanted to stop by to say good bye to Lucas, but it looks like he's unavailable, so I'll go. Bye Lindsay."

She runs down the lawn, heels clicking against the pavement, and when Lindsay blinks, her cab is already turning the corner.

The editor thinks she's imagined the whole thing.

Her mind is reeling, trying to deal with this new information, when she hears a voice from inside.

"Linds, is that you?" Lucas rises from the bed, squinting painfully at the massive amount of sun pouring in from the door and Lindsay quickly forgets about Brooke Davis.

Staring into the eyes of the man who has consumed her world both personally and professionally for the last two years, Lindsay, a usually level headed woman, forgets everything but him.

So it's no surprise that when Lucas asks what she's doing outside, she doesn't mention Brooke coming by, not because she doesn't want to or feels jealous but because seeing Lucas again so vulnerable and hurt, and having him open up to her like this, is so overwhelming that it takes precedence over everything else.

Lucas never learns that Brooke came to say good bye and he lets Lindsay hold him as he mourns Peyton.

Not knowing that a few blocks away, Brooke is trying to compose herself for the last time, as she determines that she'll never shed another tear in this town.

That she will mourn her best friend in her own home on her own time, without anyone from her past, because as far as she's concerned besides Larry, and the James-Scott family who will be traveling a lot anyway, there's nothing for her here.

She buried the last traces of home with her P. Sawyer and there's no reason for her to dwell on what could have been.

***


End file.
